Just Another Orphan
by ValwithV
Summary: Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter just another orphan. Without the scar on his forehead Harry is free to choose his own path. His Slytherin sorting is only the first surprise to his parents' old friends. Darkish themes. Dark!Harry. Rating could go up to M later.
1. The Third Task

_A/N: _

_This little story is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. Helpful reviews and constructive criticism or just your thoughts on the fic in general are more than welcome. _

_I hope you enjoy the read! Btw chapters will get longer. From chapter 3 onwards all chapters will have about 5000/6000 words. _

**_Facts:  
><em>**_Harry is not the BWL, Neville is. Harry will be dark. Harry is straight.  
><em>_My story starts during the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Up to that point all major canon events happened to Neville instead of Harry. (Neville saved the Philosopher's Stone, Neville saved Ginny, Neville was in the Shrieking Shack, Neville competed in the Triwizard Tournament). However this doesn't mean that Neville did everything the exact same way Harry did, just that overall the outcome was the same.  
><em>_Of course all important changes will be mentioned in the story anyway, just wanted to give you a quick heads up what to expect. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>Chapter One<p>

The Third Task

With a sigh Harry Potter craned his neck in hopes of seeing some action happening down on the Quidditch Pitch. Again all he could make out though, was a maze with walls so high nobody could see what was happening inside – brilliant idea for an event with a few hundred spectators.

He slumped back down in his seat and resumed reading his potions text. Normally all students could relax after their final exams, but Harry had a very special relationship to the resident Potions master, who had managed to force one last extra essay on Harry.

"They probably died in there." Theo Nott, sitting next to him, yawned while stretching his limps.

Harry threw Theo a tiny smirk. "Mhm… Rumour has it Hagrid offered one of those fire blasting skrewts as an obstacle."

"I still can't believe the ministry allowed him to keep those alive." Draco Malfoy chimed in, turning around to look at them incredulously from his seat in the row below. "But figures. Who wouldn't want a cute _manticore_ cross-breed…"

Harry grinned back. "Ah don't be jealous Malfoy. I'm sure your father'll buy you one if you ask nicely."

The sudden appearance of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore himself down on the field halted their conversation.

"Draco what's happening down there?" Pansy Parkinson whined. Her small size obviously frustrating her once again.

Harry, not one of the tallest boys himself, was secretly thankful she asked the question.

"Nothing much. Dumbledore and the other judges are discussing something. Maybe the skrewt really killed one of the champions."

The Slytherins snickered.

Nothing exciting happened down on the field and they soon returned to their quiet chatter. Harry packed away his book – it was too dark to read by now anyway – and stood up to make a trip to the bathroom.

On his way back, just as he started to climb up the stairs to his seat, a pained cry made him turn around. A short distance away from him Cedric Diggory and Neville Longbottom lay on the ground, the latter clutching the Trizward Cup. Both looked deathly pale, Longbottom bleeding from multiple wounds, his left leg standing away in an odd angle.

All the judges looked at the boys in shock. Clearly that entrance didn't go as planned.

Harry watched Dumbledore practically run to the Boy-Who-Lived's side. Who would have thought the old man could still move so fast? As soon said boy spotted the headmaster he started to talk rapidly. Harry could only make out short phrases.

"Cedric… dead…"

"Portkeye."

"Voldemort… Voldemort back!"

Harry automatically took a step back. Longbottom couldn't be serious. The Dark Lord was dead. Had been for more than ten years. One couldn't simply return from the dead, death was final. Maybe something in the maze had messed with his brain?

Harry's gaze wandered to the headmaster and to his surprise the old man seemed to take the boy's claims serious. He rested a calming hand on Neville's shoulder and listened to his story with a grave expression. Whenever his eyes strayed in Diggory's direction they blazed with a fury Harry had not thought the kind man capable of. Did that mean Diggory was really dead?

Harry strained his ears to make out more of the quiet conversation, if it turned out that Longbottom was really telling the truth…

Suddenly a hand grabbed his right shoulder harshly and he was spun around forcefully. Severus Snape – his head of house and the bane of his Hogwarts existence.

"Potter." Cold black eyes looked down on him, the Professor's voice clipped and flat as usual, spiked with that underlying hatefulness reserved for Harry alone. "I do not think your presence here his required. I would suggest you join your housemates before I have to assign detention for sticking your nose where it does not belong. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir."

Harry gritted his teeth and made his way back towards the stairs. Leave it to Snape to show up at the most inopportune moment.

Just before Harry was out of hearing reach he caught a last sentence, one that made his blood freeze.

"Pettigrew helped…"

He turned around again trying to glean more information – any detention Snape could give him was worth learning more about that damned rat – but a screaming Amos Diggory drowned Longbottom's voice.

"My son! Cedric! I want to see my son! Let me through! Cedric!"

From a safe distance Harry watched as Amos Diggory broke down crying next to his unmoving son.

...

The End-of-Term Feast was a subdued affair. The Great Hall was decorated with black in memory of Cedric Diggory's death and Dumbledore's speech – where he confirmed that Diggory had apparently died by Lord Voldemort's hand – did nothing to lighten the depressing atmosphere.

All in all for the first time in years Harry Potter was not completely adverse to leave the castle behind and board the Hogwarts Express. As usual he shared his compartment with Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for about half an hour before Tracey spoke up.

"Do you think it's true? What Dumbledore said? Is He back?" She kept her voice perfectly neutral, not revealing what answer she deemed preferable.

Blaise and Daphne shrugged their shoulders. Theo looked out of the window, avoiding all eye contact. He had been acting strangely for the last few days, adamantly refusing to talk about the Dark Lord's return. For Harry, who was used to discussing thoughts of all nature with Theo, this was extremely frustrating.

Theodore Nott was his best friend. When they first arrived at Hogwarts both of them had been extremely shy, struggling to find their place amongst the condescending Slytherins. Oftentimes they were overseen next to the boisterous Malfoy and Blaise or the massive forms of Crabbe and Goyle. In the beginning their companionship had been one of convenience, but by the end of their first year they had become friends.

In light of Dumbledore's speech and Diggory's death, Theo's strange behaviour was only one more confirmation that Lord Voldemort was truly back. Harry knew about the rumours that Theo's father was a Death Eater. He had probably already received confirmation from his father but couldn't really say it openly – not even to Harry.

"I am not sure yet… we'll have to wait and see. But there is a lot indicating Longbottom told the truth." The others looked at him expectantly. Harry elaborated.

"Who else could have killed Diggory? Longbottom?"

Theo snorted.

"Exactly." Harry continued. "The idea alone is ridiculous. And then there is Dumbledore. What would he gain from lying about this?" Silence met him, but he could see the wheels spinning behind Blaise's eyes. That boy loved his conspiracy theories.

"Maybe his influence is waning and he tries to ensure his position by making the public feel they need him… Everybody knows he is the only one powerful enough to fight the Dark Lord."

"Right." Tracey remarked, sneering. "And when no Dark Lord shows up he'll just say sorry, my mistake? He would lose all credibility."

"Well… he could always stage a duel. Glamour somebody to look like the Dark Lord and…" He shut up without finishing the sentence. It seemed even Blaise realized how ludicrous this theory was. And that was saying something for the guy who once seriously suspected Snape to be a vampire scouting for students worth turning after graduation. In his defence, Blaise had been twelve at the time.

The others snickered while Blaise turned a light shade of pink – according to Blaise a Zabini worth his salt never turned red, no matter the situation. So far at least that statement held true.

The rest of the train ride was spent joking and talking about unimportant subjects, but Harry could not shake the feeling that the overall mood was not as light as usual.

Their conversation about Voldemort had shown all to clearly that even though the Dark Lord had not even officially returned, they were already getting cautious with their statements. None of them had revealed what they thought of His possible return, only trying to gauge the others' point of view. Not that this was surprising. If there was one thing they had learned over the years in Slytherin it was to always gain more information than to give and always make sure that there was somebody else in your corner before you took a position.

...

Harry crossed the barrier to the main part of King's Cross and looked out for _his muggles._ He refused to think of the Dursleys as family and was pretty certain the sentiment was mutual.

Not long and he found them standing behind a group of tourists. They hadn't spotted him yet and alternated between looking at the foreigners in annoyance and the barrier to platform _9 ¾ _with thinly veiled disgust and fear.

Harry dragged his heavy trunk in their direction and silently cursed the law that forbade him to do magic outside of school for the umpteenth time. His life would be so much easier…

Dudley caught sight of him first. His small pig eyes narrowed he pulled on his mother's elbow and soon three hostile stares welcomed him "home".

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><p><em>So, that was my first chapter. I hope you liked it. The second one is only one click away. Please tell me what you think so far! <em>


	2. Leaving Privet Drive

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

Leaving Privet Drive

Harry was half-crazed with boredom. Three weeks of his summer holidays had already passed and absolutely nothing had happened. He spent one day after the other in the same dull routine. He got up, had breakfast, read or wandered around alone, had lunch, read or wandered around alone, had dinner, read or wandered around alone and went to bed.

He'd visited Diagon Alley twice so far, but without his friends, who spent July travelling with their families, it just wasn't the same.

Thankfully his muggles didn't dare to starve or work him like a houseelf anymore. A grin spread across Harry's face when he remembered the reason.

He'd never told anybody about his home situation, but after three years Theo had managed to put together a pretty accurate picture and asked his father to threaten _Harry's muggles_ a bit. Harry had watched from a distance as Mr Nott exchanged a few words with Vernon, all the while smiling pleasantly at the rapidly paling man in front of him.

Harry neither knew nor cared what Mr Nott had said to his muggles. All he cared about was that from that day onwards his summers got a lot easier. Sure his relatives still refused to let him eat at the table with them and hardly ever talked to him, but he always found his share of every meal in the fridge and his chores were a thing of the past.

At around midnight, Harry was lying on his bed reading a book, an owl pecked on his window. It was Sirius Black's owl and Harry hurried to let it in, anxious for news of his godfather.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope you are well and enjoying your summer holidays. I finally managed to find a safe place to live. Would you like to visit?I'd love to finally meet you. I could send someone by to pick you up anytime._

_Just let me know!_

_Sirius_

Harry did a little jig in the restricted space of his small room. Finally some good news! He'd been exchanging letter with Sirius ever since the headmaster had told him that his godfather had been wrongly imprisoned at the end of third year.

That conversation had been one of the most memorable ones in Harry's life. Of course he had known before that his parents died fighting against Death Eaters.

News to him had been that they died fighting in their own home, which should have been protected by the Fidelius charm. Apparently the Potters and friends had met at their place in celebration of the Dark Lord's fall when a group of Death Eaters attacked. The Potters were amongst the first to die and Sirius Black left soon afterwards. Now they knew Sirius went looking for the traitor Peter Pettigrew, who had conveniently disappeared the moment the attack started. At the time though, it looked like Sirius had betrayed the Potters and fled the scene only to kill Pettigrew along with thirteen muggles. He was carted off to Azkaban without trial.

Harry sent the owl away with a positive reply and went to sleep with a big smile on his face. Any time he had to spend with the muggles, cut from magic, was too much in his opinion. He longed for his own world, and soon he would be back.

...

_Saturday, one week later._

Harry looked at the kitchen clock. Half past six. Whoever came to pick him up was already half an hour late. His relatives had left for the day, probably afraid of meeting another wizard.

Finally somebody knocked at the front door. Harry opened it and was greeted by a smiling man with red hair and freckles who offered his hand in greeting.

"Hello! My name is Arthur Weasley. I am here to pick you up. You are Harry right?" Harry nodded, shaking the man's warm hand firmly. "Marvellous. So you live with muggles, do you?" Arthur grinned at him widely as though that were something special.

"Uhm, yes, I do. I'll just get my trunk. Would you like to come in for a second?"

If possible the man's smile grew even broader. "Yes, thank you. Is your family here?"

Harry suppressed the grimace that wanted to spread across his face when Mr Weasley referred to the Dursleys as family.

"No, I am sorry. They had to run some errands."

"Ah pity, I would have loved to meet them. Muggles… always so interesting… oooh! Is that a fellitone?"

Harry could only stare open mouthed at the man who was inspecting the Dursley's telephone with great interest.

"Hello! Can you hear me?" Mr Weasley shouted at the telephone without picking up the receiver. When nobody answered he looked like somebody kicked his puppy.

"Is it broken?"

" Uhm… no Mr Weasley. You've got to pick up the receiver and dial the number of the person you want to call before you talk…"

Not really knowing what else to do Harry watched Mr Weasley play with the phone for a few minutes longer. Apparently the man found the monotonous beeps that resounded from the receiver utterly fascinating.

"Mr Weasley, shouldn't we get going?"

Harry dearly hoped is godfather was less crazy, or he would have to cut his stay short.

"Ah yes, of course. I wanted to have one of those for ages. But my wife… Aah… but no matter. Grab my arm, I will apparate us!"

A few seconds later Harry, his trunk and Mr Weasley stood in front of a row of high buildings, obviously in a muggle neighbourhood. Mr Weasley gave Harry a small piece of paper. Only one sentence was written onto it.

_The Headquarters of the Order of Phoenix is at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place._

When Harry looked up from the note a house appeared between numbers eleven and thirteen. Slowly the compressed house grew broader and broader until it matched its neighbours.

Awed by that piece of magic Harry followed Mr Weasley. Inside, the house was less impressive. It was old, dark and smelled mouldy. They stood in a long hallway that was dimly lit by gas lamps and a large chandelier.

"Don't trip over the umbrella stand." Mr Weasley whispered just in time.

"Why are we whispering?" Harry asked back feeling slightly silly as there was nobody around.

Mr Weasley pointed at a pair of moth-eaten closed curtains in front of them.

"Behind those curtains is a picture of Sirius' mother. You really don't want to wake her up. She's horrible." Mr Weasley glanced down at his trunk. "Just leave it here. We'll go to the kitchen first, everybody else is there."

Harry followed Mr Weasley to the end of the hallway and down a narrow staircase. Who was everybody else? He had been under the impression his godfather was living alone…

They entered the kitchen where at least ten people were sitting around a long wooden table. Before Harry could even start to introduce himself a familiar red headed boy stood up angrily.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

Another redhead, presumably his mother, reprimanded him immediately.

"Ronald Weasley! You will sit down right now."

"But he's… " Ron tried to continue before he faltered under his mother's stern glare.

Harry groaned. Arthur Weasley. Ron Weasley. Red hair and freckles. How had he managed to overlook that?

"Harry." A hoarse voice croaked.

"Sirius?" A man with short, dark hair and striking grey eyes walked towards him. His face was gaunt and he was too thin but otherwise he looked fine.

Before Harry could say another word the man had enveloped him in a tight embrace. Harry felt increasingly awkward and after a few seconds his godfather thankfully let go of him and instead proceeded to look at him.

"You really look so much like him… like James… they told me, but I never thought…"

Harry smiled uncertainly, not really sure what to answer to that.

"Come sit down Harry. I'll introduce you to the rest. I suppose you know Neville, Ron and Hermione?" Sirius winked at him smiling and Harry forced himself to smile back. Oh yes, he knew the Wonder Boy, the Weasel and the little know-it-all.

"Then there, next to Hermione is Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister. You probably know her and the Weasley twins over there as well. There is Molly Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks…"

The young woman with bubble gum pink hair shrieked indignantly. "Just Tonks, Sirius. How often do I have to tell you?!" Sirius smirked at her briefly but continued unperturbed. "An lastly there is our dear Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother."

After a round of handshakes Harry took the free seat between Sirius and, much to his chagrin, Ron Weasley. He ignored Ron to the best of his abilities and concentrated on his conversation with Sirius. Apparently the house they were in at the moment was Sirius ancestral home and his parents had put so many security measures on it that not even the Ministry could locate the escaped prisoner here. Soon Mrs Weasley served dinner and Harry had to admit that her cooking was delicious.

After dinner more and more people trickled in: the real Alastor Moody (apparently they had been taught by a polyjuiced Death Eater all year…), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, another male Weasley and lastly Severus Snape.

Harry very nearly choked on his pumpkin juice when his greasy haired Head of House marched into the kitchen, looking surly as always.

"Good evening sir." Harry greeted trying to salvage the situation as soon as his coughing fit subsided.

"Potter. What are you…" His gaze flickered to Sirius sitting next to Harry. "Naturally." He sat down with an even darker scowl than usual and proceeded to ignore both of them.

...

After Mrs Weasley had ushered him and the other "children" out of the kitchen, Harry used the time it took him to drag his trunk step by step up to the first floor to ponder on this weird evening.

He'd obviously been mistaken in the assumption that Sirius would be living alone, but why was Neville Longbottom here? Was this some kind of general hideout? Was the "Order of Phoenix" a real organization? When he'd first read the note he'd thought it was just one of Sirius' jokes to make his situation seem less dull... But then who were those people down in the kitchen and why did they come together. It was obvious that some of them did not get along well enough for this to be just an evening with friends.

Professor Snape seemed to despise everybody present and by the looks of it that feeling was not one sided. The weird drunk, something Fletcher, stayed away from Molly Weasley as far as possible. Moody and his magical eye searched the room every few seconds as tough afraid some threat might jump out behind a kitchen board any moment – though that was probably to be expected if one had recently spent a whole school year imprisoned by an identity thief…

When he reached the first floor another long dark hallway awaited him. Multiple doors led into different rooms and Harry suddenly realized that he had no further instructions. There were voices coming from behind one of the doors and reluctantly Harry decided to knock.

"Yes?" A male voice, probably Ron Weasley, shouted back over the noise. Slowly Harry pushed the door open and peaked inside. It was a bedroom with two single beds made of dark wood on either side of it. His three Gryffindor year-mates and the Ginny Weasley occupied the room. Their voices died down and they looked at him expectantly.

"Yes?" Ron repeated, this time less friendly. Harry fought down the urge to scowl at the boy and decided to play nice for the time being. By the looks of it he would see a lot of them during his stay with Sirius.

"Do any of you know were I am supposed to sleep? They only told me to go to upstairs." For good measure, he smiled at the Weasley girl. As far as he was concerned she was the most tolerable out of them. The girl blushed immediately.

"No, I'm sorry. But you can stay here until the meeting is finished… if you want…?" She finished uncertainly ignoring the nasty look her brother sent her way.

"Yes, thank you." Harry agreed, shut the door behind him and sat down cross-legged next to the female redhead. "So… what about that meeting you mentioned?"

The four of them exchanged meaningful looks before Longbottom spoke up, trying to act casual.

"Not a real meeting, just, uhm you know… the grown ups discussing V-Voldemort's return…"

"So all of the people downstairs really believe that he is back?" Harry was not sure what to make of this. Was it really just a discussion among acquaintances, or could it be something more? Maybe Neville's grandmother was rallying people to stand beside her grandson in the upcoming confrontation? But why were they at Sirius' house and not Longbottom Manor? And why was Snape here? Harry had always had the impression that Snape hated Longbottom only slightly less than Harry.

"Of course they believe him! Neville is no liar!" Ron Weasley's angry shout ended his musings. He groaned inwardly. He should have known that this was a touchy subject – what with all the Longbottom and Dumbledore slandering the Prophet was up to these days.

"That's not what I said. I only asked because a lot of people don't seem to agree with his-" he jerked his head in Longbottom's direction "-version of what happened during the Third Task."

"Well, do you believe him then?" Granger pressed on.

"I haven't seen anything yet that would prove or disprove your story... I'll have to wait and see what happens next before I make up my mind." He tried to stay as vague as possible. What he really wanted to discuss when it came to the Dark Lord's return was not a possibility with these people anyway… and if he was lucky they would feel prompted to reveal more in an effort to prove themselves right now.

"Cedric's death is not proof enough for you?" Longbottom's quiet voice quivered as he spoke.

"He is not the first incompetent champion to die during the Triwizard Tournament," Harry said dismissively. "And I really don't know any of you well enough to just accept your words as the truth, do I?"

During the following minutes Harry nearly regretted his careless words. The voices of Granger, the Weasleys and Longbottom all descended on him in a blur of angry shouts.

"How dare you speak of Cedric…"

"Cedric was a better wizard than you will ever be. He didn't die in an accident!"

"Neville would never lie about…"

"Don't you have any sense of tact?"

"I saw him die! How can you…"

"Slytherins, what do you expect…"

Harry put his head in his hands in frustration. In retrospect he should have known that Gryffindors would take a careless remark on the death of a Hufflepuff they did not even know overly personal.

...

The next morning Harry woke up in a queen-sized bed on the topmost floor. Thankfully Sirius had given him his own space – the bedroom that had formerly belonged to his now dead brother Regulus.

Sirius hadn't said much about his brother, but if the room was anything to go by Regulus Black had been a Slytherin and proud pureblood. The room was furnished in dark wood; the only colours present being silver and emerald. Above the bed was the Black family crest along with their motto "Toujours Pur". The most interesting thing in the room though was collection of newspaper cuttings concentrated on Lord Voldemort's first rise. Apparently the young Regulus Black had been an avid fan of a certain Dark Lord.

Nobody talked much during breakfast. From time to time, the three Gryffindors threw him hostile looks - probably still sulking because he didn't outright believe them. Oh and because he had dared to talk about their dead schoolmate so carelessly. Diggory's death seemed to burden Longbottom heavily, something Harry could not understand. Longbottom had neither cast the killing curse nor led Diggory to Lord Voldemort on purpose… It really wasn't his mistake, no matter how you looked at it.

Afterwards Harry followed Sirius through the house. It really looked like the set of a muggle horror movie. On the wall next to the staircase leading up to the first floor hung the heads of former house elves like a morbid decoration. He smirked as he imagined one of those decoration magazines Petunia liked to read doing a home story on it like they sometimes did with the houses of famous people.

Sirius followed his gaze and his face scrunched up in disgust.

"Yeah. My family had some peculiar tastes, the darker the better. Could never stand this place, not even as a child." Harry only nodded; there really wasn't much to say in defense of that house. It was grimy, dusty and dark. The wallpapers were peeling and the floor was so dirty in some places that one couldn't even make out the carpet's original colour.

Harry followed Sirius into the drawing room. It was not too big and looked quite nice compared to the rest of the house. The furniture was used but comfortable and a large fireplace added to the cosy picture.

"The last room I'll show you is the library. The others are just spare bedrooms or bathrooms, nothing exciting. "

As soon has Harry had taken the first step into the library he knew where he would spend most of his free time at Grimmauld Place. It was huge, at least twice the size of the drawing room, with dark wooden shelves so high they reached the ceiling. The books in here looked old, dark and some of them were probably extremely rare… Three comfortable dark green wing chairs were spread across the room. In front of a long window facing the street stood a large mahogany desk. It was a beautiful room – the only one in the house that still emanated the elegance of long forgotten times. Seeing it Harry could imagine that the rest of the house must have looked similarly noble once upon a time. He had to restrain himself from perusing the library right that minute.

Sirius noticed his sudden enthusiasm anyway.

"I guess you like books? Hermione reacted similarly." Harry grimaced at the comparison to that girl. He was nothing like her, thank you very much.

His godfather looked at him pensively.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told her. You are allowed to look through the library but you've got to be careful. A lot of the books are on Dark Magic and I don't want any of you anywhere near them. Apart from the questionable knowledge they hold they can be dangerous themselves, picky in their choice of reader. Just steer clear from all tomes on Dark Magic and you should be fine."

"Of course." Harry grinned. He couldn't believe it. He had a whole library full of books he could read at his hearts content. No restricted section. Nobody here could control what he read when he was alone. Dark Magic. Powerful Magic. New knowledge that had formerly been denied to him…

Sure, he had used some darker spells before – he was a Slytherin after all – and had read one book or another on the topic… but up until now his education in the darker aspects of magic had always been at the mercy of his classmates.

He'd only gotten to read a fraction of their books, only the less dangerous ones they were allowed to take to Hogwarts… He had always been at a disadvantage in comparison, but now he had the chance to catch up.

He realized that he probably looked like a lunatic, grinning because of a collection of dusty books, but he couldn't wipe that smile of his face if he tried.

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><p><em>Second chapter finished. If you can spare a minute please tell me what you think. Thank you!<em>


	3. Unfamiliar Ground

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

><p>Chapter Three<p>

Unfamiliar Ground

"So… you are in Slytherin, I've heard?" Sirius tried to ask nonchalantly as Harry and he were sitting in the drawing room on the first floor once again.

It was the place they both fled to whenever Molly Weasley was on the lookout for new participants in her cleaning spree. The insufferable woman had made it her purpose to clean the house and simultaneously keep all the "children" occupied to make sure they wouldn't "get up to any mischief". Though considering Fred and George Weasley were her offspring her perspective was understandable in a way.

That sadly didn't make it any less annoying. She didn't even allow them to use magic – despite Grimmauld Place being a magical household with such extensive wards that Merlin himself would be hard pressed to detect underage magical activity through them.

"Yeah and you've been in Gryffindor with my father, right?" Harry didn't really understand why all the people who had known his parents always acted so surprised when they found out he was a Slytherin. Yes, both of his parents had been Gryffindors, but they didn't raise him. Nobody could expect him to act like they did.

They were strangers to him, faces in old photographs; alternately heroes, beloved friends, intelligent students or freaks, good-for-nothings and arrogant spoilt brats in stories told by former friends, old teachers, school nemeses and jealous relatives.

He didn't know them and never would. They were just a memory he'd pieced together from shreds of other people's memories. There was no use in trying to please them. He could never know what they would've thought in reality. He liked to think that they wanted him to be true to himself and make his own decisions.

"Ah yes, those were good times. We were best friends back then. James, Moony, I and… Wormtail, of course." He spat the last name with so much hatred that Harry recoiled.

But Harry understood, he wanted that traitorous rat dead too. He wanted to take revenge on the man, the family friend, who had forsaken him to grow up under the care of the Dursleys. The man who had been part of his parents little group of trusted loved ones until the day he organised their death.

They sat in silence for a short while, then Sirius brought up a topic Harry had managed to avoid so far.

"Albus said you live with Lily's sister?"

"Mhm."

"So, how's that been?"

"Okay." Drop it already.

"Lily once told me her sister had a problem with her being a witch…" Sirius prodded carefully.

"Yeah, they don't like magic much."

"But they treat you alright?"

To lie or not to lie… Harry decided to go with the truth. He didn't want to be pitied but hell would freeze over before he defended the Dursleys in front of anyone. He didn't have to reveal much anyway…

"They do now."

"Now?"

"Yes."

He could see that Sirius was getting frustrated with his monosyllabic answers, but the Dursleys were a topic he preferred to leave untouched.

"What was it like before now?" Sirius continued to ask, obviously preferring to ignore the not so subtle hints that this conversation was not welcome.

Harry huffed annoyed. "I really don't like talking about this…"

"Harry, I just want to get to know my godson a little better… I already missed so much of you life…"

Damn, resorting to emotional blackmail – so much for being a Gryffindor.

Harry fixed Sirius with a cold stare. He really really did not like talking about the Dursleys, about how he, a wizard, was helpless against pathetic muggles.

"Well… They really didn't like magic and as a consequence didn't like me. It wasn't too bad. They just gave me a lot of chores to make me earn my keep. Sometimes food was a bit meagre."

So much for not defending the Dursleys… But he didn't want anybody to know about how they kept him in the cupboard under the stairs until his Hogwarts letter arrived, or about how they never celebrated his birthday, had him wear his whale of a cousin's worn out clothes, punished him for accidental magic by starving him or worked him like a slave in their house and garden. A swell of hatred for his relatives filled him just at the thought of it.

"You mean to say they starved you?"

Harry nodded. There was no use in denying that.

"Those pathetic bastards. Taking it out on a child! Lily never liked talking about her sister… but this… Do you want me to talk to them? A short visit of the deranged murderer Sirius Black could do wonders…"

Sirius grinned at him, showing a bit too much teeth. Yes, Harry could imagine Sirius pulling off the role of a violent psychopath exceptionally well…

Petunia would probably cry hysterically, Dudley piss himself… it was a tempting thought... And that Sirius would do this for him; leave the security of his house to help Harry… that opened a box of warm feelings Harry touched very rarely. But it was little too late.

"Thanks for the offer." Harry grinned back. "But it's better already. Wouldn't want to risk that by scaring them too much."

"What happened to make it better? I hardly believe they just woke up one day as better people?"

Now Harry's smile turned a bit predatory.

"My best friend's father threatened them a bit."

At the mention of friends Sirius' eyes lit up.

"Oh? Who's your best friend? I got to write his father a thank you note." Sirius winked at him conspiratorially.

"Theodore Nott."

Sirius smile vanished faster than the air of a balloon pierced with a needle.

"Theodore Nott? The son of the known Death Eater William Nott?"

"Suspected Death Eater. He was never convicted." Harry corrected automatically.

His godfather only snorted angrily. "Yeah, neither was Lucius Malfoy for that matter. Did he plead Imperius Curse as well?"

Shrugging his shoulders noncommittally Harry tried to avoid answering that question. Sirius had hit the mark. As far as he knew Theo's father had even managed to make the Ministry pay him a compensation for the week he had had to spend behind Azkaban's bars. Harry had the very strong suspicion that this was not a topic one should discuss with a wrongly imprisoned man.

Sirius continued heatedly. "The Notts are not a good family, Harry. Your friend's father and grandfather are both Death Eaters. You really have to stay away from them… especially now…"

"What do you mean, stay away from them? Theo is my best friend! The hell I'll stay away from him!"

Sirius had no business demanding such a thing. A week ago they didn't even know what the other looked like, and already Sirius felt he had the right to intervene in his friendships?!

"Didn't you listen to me? His whole family are Death Eaters!" Sirius was standing now, his face red, but Harry was not about to back down.

"Please, I knew that before you told me. That doesn't mean anything." Harry had left his seat now as well.

"It doesn't… It doesn't mean anything? Are you trying to tell me you are okay with Death Eaters?"

"I never said that. But Theo is a great friend. And even his father helped me with the Dursleys."

"Yeah, right. Don't be under the illusion he only did it to help you. He probably felt like being back in the good old days. Scaring muggles shitless. Great start for a fun summer." Sirius sneered down at him making Harry hate his short posture once again.

"So what?! It's not as if you didn't offer to do the same thing only a minute ago!"

"Yes, but for totally different reasons Harry! Can't you see that? They are Notts, selfish bastards. They don't act out of the kindness of their heart!"

"Yeah and you are a Black!" Harry threw back. The man was being totally irrational. Theo was a great friend, his best friend. The one person he could talk to about anything… or at least that's how it used to be. Ever since the Dark Lord's return Theo's letters were conspicuously uninformative… Harry shook his head to get these thoughts out of his head. That was not something he wanted to think about now.

Sirius looked even angrier than he had before. "Yes I am a Black. But I never agreed with my family, I'm not a Slytherin like the rest of them, I was sorted into Gryffindor…"

"Oooh… so being a Gryffindor equals being a good person now?! Do you tell yourself that at night before you go to sleep? And I guess Slytherins are the bad guys in your perfect little world? Thanks for informing me."

Harry turned around and stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him loudly. Prejudiced arsehole. He had known Sirius had had a problem with his sorting from the beginning. Shouldn't have expected anything else. And Theo… how dare he judge Theo?! Theo who hadn't answered his letter for almost two weeks now…

He was so angry and lost in his thoughts that he didn't see Molly Weasley approach him before it was too late to disappear behind one of the numerable doors in the hallway.

"Oh Harry, there you are! I've been looking for you all over. Come along, we are cleaning the second family room today."

Without deigning her with an answer he followed her up to the second floor. Physical work always was a good distraction. He really didn't want to think about Theo and what his friend was up to these days that was so important that he couldn't even spare the time to pick up a damn pencil and write back. Or about what Sirius probably thought of him because he was a Slytherin…

Mrs Weasley led him into the room in question. It looked like an identical replica of the drawing room on the first floor. Only this one was a lot dirtier and the tapestry of the Black family tree was missing. Longbottom and his friends were already hard at work.

"Here we are. You could help Hermione scrub the carpet… I think it's supposed to be red…" She looked at the dirty grey ground doubtfully. "Anyway, I'll be downstairs. Ginny and I are cleaning another bedroom… Remus – ah Professor Lupin I mean – is supposed to come tomorrow and there's still so much to do… I've never seen a worse doxy infestation in my life…" She bustled out of the room, already calling for Fred and George.

Without so much as looking at the others, Harry grabbed the nearest wire brush and started working his anger into the floor. After minutes of relentless scrubbing, a patch no bigger than his palm stood out in pale red. Merlin. It would take ages to clean the whole room like this.

Time went by at snail's pace, and Harry was getting increasingly frustrated. Trying to work out his pent up aggressions was of no use when the work itself only added to his frustration. Not allowed to use magic in a magical household. The stupidity of some people!

A shuffling sound behind him made him turn around. There, right next to him, looking at him kneeling on the floor stood the ugliest, oldest house-elf Harry had ever laid eyes on.

"Filth… Halfbreeds… Besmirching the noble house of Black…" Its angry mutterings brought Harry out of his stupor and he turned to look at the other three teenagers incredulously.

"Why the hell are we cleaning the room if Sirius has a freaking house elf?"

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione Granger stared at him frostier than ever before, her voice weirdly calm.

"What I mean? I mean: Why are we doing its work?"

Granger abandoned her lying position to get up on her knees.

"It? This is Kreacher. He is male, and definitely not a thing!"

The elf didn't pay his defender any attention and continued spouting swear words.

"Well… that still leaves the question, why we are doing _his_ work, then."

"His work? What makes you think this is his work? He is not even using this room!"

Harry looked at her flabbergasted. Was there something he was missing in this conversation? The last time he checked people kept house-elves to do the housework.

"What makes me think… well… maybe for starters that he is a _house-elf_?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you encourage the enslavement of his entire race?" Granger still knelt on the floor, hands on her hips, eyes fierce.

"Enslavement?" What the fuck?

"Of course. Or how would you call it to force somebody to work for you without payment or rights for time off? That's barbaric and definitely slavery!"

"Seriously? They are called house-elves for a reason, you know…"

"Yes, the reason being human cruelty!" She nearly screamed at him, but thankfully took a few calming breaths before she continued. "Did you never hear about S.P.E.W. back at Hogwarts? I mean… you are in our year and all that… even if we don't interact much… or at all… I thought most people would have heard by now…"

"Espee-what?"

"S.P.E.W. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare! Honestly. I really thought most students would have heard of it…" The last part of the sentence was mumbled quietly as if she were talking more to herself than him.

Harry for his part felt a bit confused. He had never before heard of that organisation. Nor any other going in that direction…

"No, never heard of it."

"Well, you should think about joining. The fee's two sickles. We always need more members and you definitely need a wake-up call. We are fighting for equal rights and the houe-elves freedom. They have the right to be paid and go on holidays as well."

"You?" Harry had a sneaking suspicion, but it couldn't be… right?

"Yes us." She pointed at Weasley, Longbottom and herself. Both boys in the meanwhile were inspecting the carpet with immense interest.

"You," Harry stated flatly.

"Of course. I founded the organisation last year."

Sweet Merlin, the woman was being serious. Harry burst out laughing.

"Thank you... Granger," he yelped in-between loud laughs. "I really needed a good laugh today."

Said girl in the meanwhile was anything but content to be the reason for his amusement.

"You think this is funny? It's about human rights!"

Still sniggering Harry answered, "And that's where you are mistaken. It's not about human rights because they are, in fact, _not human_. They are magical creatures, born to work in magical households."

"So you think they are born to serve wizards? Of all the bigoted-"

Weasley chose that moment to enter the conversation, probably trying to win points with his crush. "Well what did you expect Hermione? I told you he was just like all the other Slytherins."

At these words Harry felt his temporarily forgotten anger rise up again. So he was just another Slytherin right, just another evil snake? Harry knew that his next words would not endear him to them and were largely fuelled by his anger at Sirius, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Well I certainly didn't expect anything else. You couldn't make it more obvious that you are just another ignorant mudblood if you tried," he addressed Granger, ignoring the rapidly reddening faces of the two boys.

"Shut up, Potter!" Weasley shouted furiously, but Granger intervened with admirable calmness for being the one the slur was directed at.

For some reason this infuriated Harry even more. He didn't want to have a calm conversation, he wanted to fight and get rid of the pent up emotions that plagued him since his talk with Sirius. He didn't dare imagine what Theo or his other Slytherin friends would say to such a blatant display of his feelings. They always told him he was far too impulsive.

"Why does fighting for elfish rights make me ignorant?" Granger asked. Her left eye was twitching a bit, and she gripped her brush tighter than was necessary. So she was angry too, she just dealt better with it.

"It just proves that you have absolutely no concept of how the magical world works. It shows that you are just another mudblood that enters our world and expects everything to change to fit her muggle-view of things."

"That's not true-" Granger started to say, but Harry was not finished. It felt good to rant.

"Your dear house-elves for instance. They don't want to be free. There is a reason giving them clothes is the worst punishment in their mind."

"Yes, the reason being that they have been brainwashed for generations," Granger said, not ready to give an inch.

"So, um, you know that they don't want to be free, but decided to free them anyway?" Harry asked puzzled. He had assumed that Granger had not bothered to talk to the creatures directly. Why would anybody want to free elves knowing that they didn't even want it themselves?

"Yes," she said steadfastly. "Because slavery is always wrong. They have a right to be free. You should understand where I'm coming from, Sirius said you were raised in the muggle world too."

Great.

"Yeah, I know where you're coming from. But what's true for the muggle world doesn't necessarily have to be true here too. When I joined this world, I tried to understand its culture. I wanted to know the world that should have been mine since birth, wanted to know the culture my ancestors grew up in and helped shape. The magical world is different from the muggle world Granger, and it's a good thing too."

Well he was not being totally honest. At first he had been content to learn about the magical world as he went, but being one of the only muggle-raised wizards in Slytherin made researching his roots a necessity. Slytherins were not exactly known for their patience when dealing with muggleborns after all. In his first year not even the name Potter had saved him from being called a "mudblood" from time to time when he showed his lack of knowledge too blatantly.

"I have learned a lot about the wizarding world too," Granger said. "But some things-"

"You have?" Harry interrupted. "So you know why Samhain's a holy day, or how wizards celebrate the Winter Solstice?"

"Nobody celebrates the Winter Solstice anymore. The Weasleys are a pureblood family, and even they celebrate Christmas."

Harry shot Ron an unimpressed look. "Well, there is a reason a lot of people call them blood-traitors…"

"It's called progress, you idiot," Weasley snapped, unwilling to let this slight against his family pass. "It just shows that we are not afraid of change."

"You call it change, I call it a pathetic imitation of the muggle world."

As Harry left the room, he noticed that the vile elf had stopped its ramblings and was staring after him with big eyes. He grinned. If insulting Granger and the others endeared him to the elf than there was a big chance he would have its loyalty by the end of the summer. And to gain the favour of a house-elf was definitely nothing to complain about. They were handy little things, after all.

…

That evening Harry's reading was interrupted by a soft knock on his door. He quickly hid the questionable book he had taken from the Black library under his pillow and pretended to be reading one of his schoolbooks.

"Yes?"

The door handle moved down and Sirius' head appeared in the crack.

"Harry, can we talk?"

"Sure, come in."

His godfather smiled briefly and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed.

"I just wanted to say that I am sorry. I overreacted today. I shouldn't have… but the name… I just… I fought in the first war and with Azkaban and everything it's still very close to the surface for me. I knew William Nott back then and he could be a right bastard when he wanted to. But I don't know you friend and… well… all I am trying to say is that I am really sorry for the way I reacted and I hope that you won't shut me out now… I really want to get to know you… you know?"

Sirius little monologue left Harry feeling weirdly touched. He hadn't expected his godfather to come to him and ask him for forgiveness… What was Sirius trying to gain with that? Or was this how somebody acted when they genuinely cared for you? He only had his experiences with the Dursleys to compare this to, and they didn't exactly fight for his affection.

The more he thought about it the more it looked like Sirius was really just trying to get to know him. Well… he had been prepared to act as though nothing had happened anyway, so this was fine with him.

"Yeah sure. I want to get to know you better too."

They talked for about half an hour after that, carefully avoiding any potentially dangerous topics. To Harry it became all to clear though, that Sirius was extremely frustrated to spend his days locked up at Grimmauld Place. He had an idea and really hoped that Sirius was up for it.

"Sirius, you are an animagus, right?"

"Oh yes. I can turn into a dog." Sirius smiled proudly. "Your father and I worked on it together. He was a stag, did you know?"

Harry had in fact not known. It was a nice little tidbit of information and actually a perfect bridge to the question he wanted to ask next.

"No I didn't… Have you ever visited their graves?"

Sirius looked up startled. "No, not yet. Have you?"

"Neither. Would you like to go together? You obviously would have to go in your animagus form but…" The rest of the sentence was muffled by Sirius' shoulder as Harry was too surprised by the sudden embrace to move his head in time.

Harry sat there stiffly and waited for Sirius to release him. He really couldn't understand why people liked hugs so much. He felt suffocated, constricted in his personal space.

Sirius released him slowly. "Yes Harry, I would love to go there with you. I am glad you felt you could ask me."

Harry smiled back. He couldn't say it out loud, the thought still too new to him, but he also enjoyed having a person in his life he could ask for things like that.

…

Sirius wanted to talk to Dumbledore before visiting the graveyard. Apparently the headmaster played an active role in hiding his godfather from the Ministry and its Aurors. It never seized to amaze Harry in how many things the old headmaster was secretly involved.

After the first two weeks of his stay at Grimmauld Place Harry had to correct his assumption that the little club that was meeting here was organized by Augusta Longbottom, no… by now Harry was pretty sure that it was in fact Albus Dumbledore who led this small group of people.

He didn't show up for every meeting, had in fact only been present twice so far, but both times he was treated with utmost respect and Harry and the other "children" had been sent upstairs immediately.

Harry still wasn't sure about the exact purpose of the organization. Naturally all of them opposed Voldemort, but were they only trying to spread to word and gather information? Or was there more to it? Were they going to fight actively along side the Aurors?

Now that he thought of it, he also started to question his parents' death. Neither of them had worked as an Auror, so why did the Death Eaters target them? Why had it been necessary for them to hide under the Fidelius charm? Had they been part of Dumbledore's little group, maybe even actively fought in the last war?

Harry became painfully aware of how little he actually knew about the last war. The objectives of both sides for instance… who had been fighting for what exactly?

Voldemort was not something commonly discussed in Slytherin. Of course it was an open secret that many sympathised with his cause, but the previous years had not been a good time to openly declare loyalty to a dead Dark Lord's agenda. Those who Harry suspected to really know something – the children of former Death Eaters – were especially tight lipped.

All Harry could say with certainty was that Voldemort had been a pureblood fanatic with an extreme hatred for all things muggle. Not that Harry blamed him for the last part. He too would prefer to steer clear of those ignorant sheep in the future, but then again… that didn't mean he wanted to wipe them off the face of the earth completely.

Once or twice he'd overheard Longbottom and his two cronies whisper about "the Order". So the "Order of Phoenix" was probably the real name of the group...

In times like these Harry damned his insatiable curiosity. Theo often said he was too nosy for his own good, and Harry reluctantly had to agree.

Back in first year, after Dumbledore had returned his father's invisibility cloak to him, this character trait had nearly gotten him killed.

At the time he'd spent whole nights sneaking through the castle hidden under the guise of his cloak. Then, one night pretty much at the end of first year, he'd encountered Longbottom, Granger and Weasley, hurrying down the forbidden third floor.

Of course he had had to follow them, and as a consequence nearly ended up as a snack for a three-headed-dog guarding a trap door. Thankfully his survival instinct stepped in at that point, and instead of following the three reckless Gryffindors he returned to his dorm. Merlin knows what the three idiots thought they were doing sneaking past a monstrous guard dog blatantly ignoring all of Dumbledore's warnings.

...

Ever since his not-so-friendly talk with the Golden Trio three days ago, they'd left him mostly to his own devices. Not that they had spent much time together before that, but at least they had been trying to include him sometimes and Granger used to join him in the library.

Now sitting in said library all alone, being able to look at whichever book he wanted, Harry had to admit that he was pretty satisfied with this outcome.

Had he known that calling her a mudblood would rid him of her bothersome presence – _Oh Harry, don't touch it! I think it's one of the books Sirius warned us away from! Honestly, do you want to get yourself injured? That's the third time this happens. _– he would have done so the first day. Now she only came to the library, glared at him and the book in his hands mistrustfully and left the second she had found her new reading material.

At the moment Harry was reading the journal of one of Sirius' ancestors, Arcturus Black I, who lived in the 19th century. It constantly switched from being utterly boring to completely fascinating.

By the looks of it Arcturus had not been a very happy man. He'd married for political reasons and alternated between calling his wife simply "the wife" or "the dragon". From the Black family tree Harry knew that Arcturus had had three children, one son and two daughters, but in his journal he only ever mentioned "the heir" and "the girl". Harry suspected that the man might not have cared enough for his daughters to distinguish between them. Those parts, where the Arcturus complained about his inadequate family, were tedious to read, but sometimes, hidden beneath loads of emotional tripe, the man revealed a sharp but cruel mind.

He'd for instance invented a dark curse that transformed a person's eyes into glowing embers that subsequently burned their way through the brain until they left through the back of the head. Apparently Arcturus got the idea from watching one muggle shoot another in the head with a revolver.

The spell never achieved great popularity. In battles it was practically useless because in order for it to work one needed to hit the victim at least somewhere in the face. For torture it killed too fast.

"Harry?" Mrs Weasley opened the door to the library without knocking. Her eyes followed the journal Harry tried to inconspicuously slide between the other books on the desk. She frowned deeply.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley?" Harry asked politely, at the same time wondering where this sudden interest in his reading came from. He'd always been careful to return all the books before he left… Hermione! She had caught him near some questionable books more than once. At the time he had thought she believed that it was just a coincident but maybe she was more attentive than he'd given her credit for. Or he was a worse actor than he liked to believe.

"The drawing room on the second floor still needs a lot of work. Ron and Neville will help you later." She turned around without waiting for his answer. Damn, she seemed angry. This was definitely not good.

After carefully returning all the books, Harry reluctantly crossed the corridor and entered the thrice-damned room once more. No matter how much time they spent cleaning it, the dirt never lessened.

He was about to start dusting an old grandfather clock when a noise coming from the opposite side of the room startled him. Immediately he released his wand from its holster and turned around slowly. There was nothing there. Shaking his head Harry turned back to continue the cleaning.

_Krrrtsh… krrtsh…_

Harry swirled around, this time faster, his wand held high. Again, there was nobody there.

_Krrrtsh… Krrrtsh…_

"Show yourself!" Harry hissed as he carefully made his way to the other side of the room.

No answer.

_Krrrtsh… Grmph…_

Harry looked around once again, but the noise definitely came from in front of him. If he was not mistaken it originated from the writing desk next to the window…

Hesitantly he reached out his hand. "It's just a bloody cabinet. Get a grip." He murmured to himself. It was probably just another stupid prank by the Weasley twins.

His hand touched the serpentine handle and he pulled hard. Nothing happened. The door wouldn't budge.

He looked around carefully, making sure he was still alone, before he pointed his wand at the cabinet.

"_Alohomora."_ Harry whispered.

The door clicked open. Harry instinctively took a step back.

A manicured hand appeared, pushing the door open wide enough for a man to step out. He was clad in the maroon coloured robes of an Auror. His black slicked back hair and the brown, emotionless eyes intensified the hostile air his whole persona emanated. The man sneered down at Harry maliciously, exposing a row of pearly white teeth.

"Mr Potter. Harry James Potter, is it?"

Harry stumbled back further, incapable of answering.

"Tsk, tsk… Stop right there, Mr Potter. You can't flee from this."

The man lifted his left hand until it caught Harry's attention.

Harry's eyes grew wide. That couldn't be! The man had his wand. How?

The Auror moved one step closer to Harry, now holding _Harry's wand_ with both hands.

"Yes Mr Potter. As I said, you can't flee from this. There is no way out. But you expected this anyway, didn't you? You knew that it was a mistake from the beginning. You never should have had a wand. You deceived the wand maker into selling you one, didn't you?"

"N-no…" Harry stuttered in horror.

"Oh yes, you did, Mr Potter. You are no wizard. You don't deserve to use magic."

"Please… no…"

A loud _krack_ echoed through the room and Harry's wand dropped to the ground, broken in two. Harry's knees gave out and he sagged to the floor, tears streaming down his face.

"No... No, no, no! Please! Please! " He screamed between sobs, but the Auror only laughed.

"Look at you. Pathetic child. You are not worthy of magic. You are not worthy of using a wand. You are just a filthy m…"

Another man stepped in front of Harry and with a silent _puff_ the Auror disappeared and a silver ball took his place.

_"Riddikulus!" _His saviour shouted and the silver ball swished through the air loosing its form.

"My wand! He – he broke my wand!" Harry was beside himself. His wand was broken, destroyed.

The man turned around identifying himself as Remus Lupin, his former Defence teacher. He bent down to Harry shaking his shoulder softly.

"Harry. It wasn't real. It was just a boggart, an illusion. Your wand is in your hand."

Perplexed Harry looked down at his hands. Lupin was right. His wand was still whole, safe in his own hand.

Only then Lupins earlier words registered.

A boggart.

A freaking boggart. He had just made a complete fool of himself. Boggarts were what…? Third year material…?

Harry pretended not to see Lupin's outstretched hand, preferring to get up on his own. He really didn't want to appear even weaker in front of the man by letting himself be dragged up like some little cry-baby.

"Thank you sir. I should have been able to get rid of a boggart myself."

Lupin only smiled benignly as though Harry had not just embarrassed himself completely.

"Don't think too much of it Harry. It happens to the best of us. Vicious little beasts. I didn't remember that fear from your third year though…"

"I was sick that day." Harry answered quickly. Actually he'd only been sleep deprived and pretending to be sick that day, as he'd spent the night before exploring Hogsmeade with Theo under his invisibility cloak. It was just his luck that this would come back to bite him in the ass.

"Well if this was your first boggart than there is even less to worry about. Nobody expects you to be able to handle one without former experience." Lupin again took hold of Harry's shoulder and guided the boy towards the door.

"Come along. Molly actually sent me to fetch you for lunch when you didn't answer her calls. She prepared meat pies for today. Delicious, I tell you. She uses some special recipe…"

Harry blocked Lupin's voice out. His thoughts were still circling around the boggart. No matter what Lupin said, he should have been able to deal with one single, little boggart.

Harry took pride in being among the best students of his year. He loved magic with all his heart and always sought to improve himself, to learn more, to become a more powerful wizard, to distance himself further from his pathetic muggle relatives.

But what was all of this worth if he was too weak to defend himself against that stupid creature? Maybe he really didn't deserve magic.

No. Harry shook his head aggressively, trying to make the traitorous thoughts disappear. He was a good wizard. He could be a great one. The sorting hat had told him as much. _(And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness…) _He would just keep studying and improving himself. And maybe he would look up a dark spell that could blast that boggart to bits. Just ridiculing it didn't seem enough in the face of his own embarrassment.

* * *

><p><em>Tadaaa... third chapter. I hope you liked it! <em>

_Thank you for your reviews, by the way! Made my day. Again: If you have a moment, please share your thoughts with me! Feedback is greatly appreciated._

_"And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness..." is of course a quote from J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone"._


	4. A Future Lost

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

><p>Chapter Four<p>

A Future Lost

"Then we agree on this. All Order members working at the Ministry will take shifts guarding the entrance to the Department of Mysteries."

The dismissal was clear in his voice and most Order members were eager to leave the depressing Headquarters of the Order of Phoenix behind. Grimmauld Place really was rather gloomy but the wards were simply outstanding.

Sitting comfortably at the dining table a mischievous smile played on his lips as he imagined the reactions earlier Black generations would have to seeing him here. The portrait of Sirius' mother was probably tame in comparison.

He was about to get up and leave when he realized that he was not the only person still seated. Sirius Black, Molly Weasley and Severus Snape had not moved either.

Pushing his fatigue aside Albus raised a single eyebrow questioningly at this unusual assembly.

"Do you wish to discuss anything else?"

All three of them nodded. Sirius was the first to speak.

"I think I will be done the quickest. I only wanted to inform you that Harry and I will be visiting Lily's and James' grave some time soon, probably tomorrow."

Albus easily hid the smile that wanted to quirk the corners of his lips as he saw the silent challenge in Sirius' eyes, daring him to make an objection.

"I can take it that you will make sure to be appropriately disguised?"

"Of course."

Molly looked at Sirius hesitantly. "I want to talk about Harry."

Sirius eyes snapped to her. "What about Harry?"

Severus, Albus noticed, was a bit curious too, but so was he.

Harry Potter was of interest to him for a reason. The prophecy that guided Neville Longbottom's path could have easily applied to Harry instead. In all honesty, he had actually expected Tom to choose Harry, not Neville.

The Potters had been magically stronger and more dangerous in a fight than Neville's parents. James had had a ruthless, sometimes even cruel side to him that the gentle Frank definitely lacked, and Lily with her intellect, stubbornness and unforgiving nature was also not to be underestimated.

Furthermore, Harry was a halfblood, like Tom, and Dumbledore had thought that, for someone as obsessed with blood as Tom, this would factor in as well.

But in the end, Tom went after Neville, making him their child saviour in the process.

Molly sighed deeply before straightening her back, visibly pulling herself together.

"I am a bit worried about his attitude. He called Hermione a - a mudblood…"

"He what?" Sirius stared at her wide-eyed, probably hoping he had misheard. Albus felt a bit uncomfortable himself. This foul name was normally used by people with a mentality he did not encourage in the least.

"He called her a mudblood." Molly repeated, this time looking straight at Sirius.

"When? Why? Was he serious? Or maybe it was just well… a really bad joke?"

"I wasn't there when he said it." Molly's eyes were cast down. "I just overheard Ron telling Ginny about it."

"You just overheard? Well maybe it's not even true then." The stubborn expression on Sirius' face made pretty clear that he would not accept hearsay on that matter.

Molly obviously agreed with Albus' silent assessment, as she did not argue Sirius' point. Severus of course did not show so much restraint.

"As the person who knows him _best_ here-" he sneered at Sirius "-I really can't say this would surprise me."

"Oh, and why is that, Snivellus?" Being the bigger man for once – or maybe just eager to defame Harry – Severus continued unperturbed and more gleeful than was appropriate.

"For one, he is completely accepted in Slytherin. Which leads me to believe that he doesn't disagree with them on something as basic as their opinion on muggles. Furthermore his best friend is Theodore Nott and he even gets along reasonably well with Draco Malfoy… I think all of that speaks for itself."

Sirius gritted his teeth. "That he is friends with Nott doesn't have to mean anything. I am a Black and was best friends with a Potter too."

Molly intervened before the Potions Master could rebut.

"That's not even the real problem. What's really concerning me is his interest in Dark Magic. Hermione saw him - more than once - with a book he should never have touched and-" Sirius made to interrupt her, but Molly silenced him with a look. "-_and_ I had that suspicion as well, even before Hermione came to me. He always hides the book he is reading whenever I enter his room or the library… and he never, and I really mean _never_, leaves any of his reading lying around. No teenage boy is so tidy! Not if he doesn't have anything to hide!"

Sirius seemed to be torn between defending his godson and feeling concerned. Severus face was completely blank.

"Are you sure my dear?" Albus prodded.

"Well, I never caught him in the act. He is too careful for that. But he is definitely hiding something. I know the signs. You don't raise seven children without developing an eye for things like that."

They sat in silence. Severus content to let the other two continue the conversation, Albus deep in thought.

Had he made a mistake by allowing the boy to come here? Was he already on his way to become a Dark wizard?

He immediately felt a bit silly for jumping to that conclusion so fast… but on the other hand, hadn't Gellert and Tom started out similarly? More powerful than you average wizard, more intelligent, more driven… But both of them had also harboured a deep-seated hatred, both had felt the need to prove themselves, to change the society they thought had wronged them…

Did this apply to Harry as well? Or was he just a curious boy testing his limits? Albus would be the first to admit that he was a bit paranoid when it came to powerful young man showing interest in the Dark Arts… but who could blame him?

He sighed deeply. Whenever he thought about Harry – which admittedly didn't happen very often – he always imagined the boy standing next to Neville. Of course at school the confines of their houses limited their interaction, but once they left it… Albus planned on telling Harry about the prophecy, about what could have been… He already imagined them standing side-by-side. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Neville's brash courage supported and guided by Harry's cunning mind.

Ashamed Albus realized that he had lost the real Harry out of sight. He had intended to keep an eye on both prophecy children, but Neville's adventures and Voldemort's reappearances had kept him constantly busy. And now things were not exactly getting easier.

"Do you have something to add Severus? Has he shown an unnatural interest in the Dark Arts before?" Albus asked pretending not to notice Severus sour expression.

He knew how much the Head of Slytherin hated to be questioned on the activities of his students, but he would part with the information anyway.

"It might be surprising to you, but I do not, in fact, follow Potter around at every hour." He replied silkily, still scowling. "Nor do I spare him any special attention. So I do not know what book he reads at night before he goes to sleep."

"Sniv-" Sirius began, but thankfully closed his mouth when Albus raised his hand.

Severus continued unperturbed. "So if you expect me to deliver any details on his state of knowledge in the Dark Arts, you will be disappointed. I know however, that he, like many other students, from time to time experiments with one or another dark spell and has done so ever since his third year."

Molly opened and closed her mouth a few times before she found her voice again.

"You knew that that boy practices _Dark Magic_ and didn't warn us? I want him gone. I don't want a Dark wizard in training around my children, especially Ginny. She's infatuated with him. Merlin knows what she will do to impress him. I won't have my daughter become addicted to Dark Magic because of that boy!"

Severus' and Sirius' snorted simultaneously – probably a first.

"What?" Molly bit out, alternately glaring at either man.

"Oh nothing. Your lack of knowledge just astounds me once again." Severus drawled lazily.

"What Snivellus here wants to say-" Sirius continued. "-is that you don't get addicted to Dark Magic by casting a few Dark curses. Or both of us and probably most Aurors would have that problem as well. So I don't think your daughter is in any danger. I don't really see any of your children delving into the Dark Arts deep enough to get lost."

"Well no… of course they wouldn't do that!" Molly replied, a bit calmer, but still visibly agitated. "But that doesn't change that he is a bad influence. I don't want them getting anywhere near Dark Magic, addiction or not."

"I won't make my godson leave because of your suspicions Molly." There was a steely note in Sirius voice. "And if it turns out that you are right then it's even more important that he stays. I won't tell him to leave only for him to run to that Nott boy and have his Death Eater father encourage his interest further. He's James' son, he's my godson, he stays."

Pleased with the current outcome of the conversation, Albus decided to end it here. Kicking the boy out would only result in alienating him and separating Harry and Sirius before they even got to know each other properly would be unnecessary cruel.

"Yes, he should stay. I'd like to think that the positive influence he is exposed to here is greater than his alleged negative one. And Molly, you must not forget that Harry is an orphan. He lost his parents in the most horrible way and never got the chance to grow up in a loving family like yours. You can't expect him to act like your children."

Albus got up and left the kitchen, Severus walking beside him. With a resigned nod he acknowledged the Potion Master's presence. It seemed as though his long day was not yet ready to come to an end.

…

_Incantation: ferve  
><em>_Effect: makes any liquid simmer in a matter of seconds  
><em>_History: presumably invented at the beginning of the 15th century in Ireland by housewife Anne-Mary Sullivan as a means to bring water to a boil without using fire. The spell soon gained popularity, as its ability to make liquids boil was not limited to water alone.  
><em>_Dark Wizards discovered that with the right amount of concentration and intent, the spell could overcome the natural protective function of skin and make the blood inside a living organism seethe.  
><em>_The Wizard's Council reclassified the former spell as a Dark Magic curse. Its mundane areas of usage were soon forgotten. Nowadays it is commonly known as the blood-boiling-curse and its use heavily frowned upon._

Harry stared at the drawing underneath the text, a man writhing in pain, his mouth wide-open, eyes bulging out.

With the Black library at his disposal he'd realized quickly that Dark Curses made up only one part of the Dark Arts.

Dark Potions and Dark Rituals were equally important, but most of the time so complicated and complex that Harry had decided to keep his hands off them for the time being. He had no interested in accidentally disintegrating his own body in a bodged up ritual because of a mistake caused by his still lacking knowledge in runes or some such thing.

The decision to concentrate on curses for the time being had been easy – finding said curses though turned out to be the opposite.

The problem of course wasn't that the Black library was lacking books on the subject, it was more that there were simply too many of them, and Harry had no idea where to start looking.

The titles gave away hardly anything besides the information that it was a book on Dark Magic. And sometimes not even that. The book he was reading at the moment was simply entitled "Incantamenta". No indication of its dark content anywhere.

It was a very thin, black, old looking book and Harry had only taken a look at it after it had fallen out of a top shelf and smacked him on the head. He had the suspicion that either the book itself or the creepy house-elf, that had taken up the hobby of stalking him, had helped matters in that regard.

Harry didn't dwell on the how too long though, and was simply glad that he'd finally found a useful book.

Most of the others he'd flipped through so far only held a handful of useful curses hidden between lots of useless spells and boring history lessons.

He'd taken up the habit of writing all of the good ones down in a journal and had decided to wait with practicing them until he returned to Hogwarts. With Molly Weasley snooping around him, trying them out here was just too risky.

Soft steps outside in the hallway warned him that someone was approaching his or Sirius' room and he quickly slid the Dark Arts book beneath his pillow. It was not a second too early: As soon as he was comfortably lying on his bed once more the door opened and Sirius stepped inside. Without knocking.

Harry raised an eyebrow at his godfather. Had knocking gone out of fashion recently or was his godfather now suspicious of him as well?

"Civilized people knock, you know?"

Sirius only grinned. "Yeah well… I'm a convicted murderer; my reputation won't go down the drain if I forget knocking from time to time. Got a moment?"

Damn. Not the answer he'd hoped for. So Mrs Weasley had blabbed to Sirius. Probably painting him as some evil devil's worshipper or something, if the glare she shot his way from time to time was anything to go by.

That meant he would've to be even more careful in the future. He'd already delayed most of his Dark Arts study sessions to hours were Mrs Weasley was either out of the house or asleep. Factoring in his godfather as well would only leave the night to do some serious reading.

Annoyed he glared at Sirius – just to make sure the man understood that this behaviour was not appreciated – and rolled to the left side of his bed to make room for him.

Sirius sat down and inspected the book lying in front of Harry with unnatural interest.

"So… what're'ya reading?"

"Uhm… nothing too exciting…" Harry glanced down at the open page as inconspicuously as possible. He didn't even know which book he had lying around this time.

"Just…" He squeezed his eyes, trying to make out the words. "Uhm... something for Potions…." Merlin, could the letters be even smaller? Finally he managed to make out a key word. "About the dreamless sleep potion to be exact."

"Oh. Do you have nightmares?" Sirius asked. Harry wasn't sure if it was concern or mistrust that made him ask further questions.

"No, no!" Harry reassured him quickly. "I'm just reading up on Potions from time to time. You know, Snape hates my guts so I've got to be well prepared for his lessons."

"I can imagine. Snivellus as a teacher. I still can't believe Dumbledore gave him the job…" Sirius sounded mildly disgusted and nodded in understanding, obviously satisfied with Harry's answer.

"Anyway." Sirius continued. "I just came by to ask you if you wanted to go to Godric's Hollow tomorrow?"

Harry sat up straight. "Of course! So you finally got around to asking Dumbledore?"

"Yes, well, it was more telling him than asking. But if something happens… If I'm caught… Not that it's likely…" A shudder ran through Sirius body. "But if, then I'd prefer Dumbledore to intervene before I'm kissed."

…

When Harry woke up the next morning it was still dark outside. He tried to fall asleep again but the prospect of visiting his parents' grave made him nervous and fidgety. He read a few pages of "Incantamenta" but his restlessness soon drove him out of his room and down to the kitchen.

It was Sunday and Molly Weasley was bustling about the kitchen apparently preparing a full English breakfast for all residents.

Should he offer to help her? After all the practice he got at the Dursleys, he fancied himself to be a quite acceptable cook.

Yes, he was still miffed that she had alarmed Sirius with her stupid suspicions, but maybe this was a good way to redeem him a bit in her eyes…

"I can take care of the scrambled eggs and sausages." He said while stepping towards the oven.

She looked at him surprised. "You can cook?"

"Yep. How many eggs?"

"Just take all of them." She seemed a bit confused. This new side of him probably didn't fit in with her image of the evil Dark Magic practicing Slytherin.

In an effort to throw her even more he started to hum a happy tune while cracking the eggs directly into the pan.

She continued staring at him while he went on to fry the sausages with practiced ease.

For a few minutes nothing but his probably pretty off tune humming broke the silence in the kitchen.

"Where did you learn to cook like that?" She asked, still a bit wide-eyed. "If I'd ever let Ronald or one of my other boys into the kitchen we'd either end up with a burned down house or food poisoning." She laughed nervously at the idea.

"My relatives had me prepare breakfast."

Molly nodded. "Ah, of course. It really is important for children to help with the housework. Helps them to grow into responsible adults, my mother used to say. Though we have so much work to do around the house and in the garden that the kitchen is left to me…" She trailed off, distracted by smoking bred loafs.

Shared housework to help him grow into a responsible adult. Yes. That's exactly what Petunia had had in mind. Harry snorted disdainfully.

He continued cooking while listening to her blabber on about her children and family life.

When he sat down at the full breakfast table half an hour later he knew that Ron was so afraid of spiders he refused to enter the garden shed, that the garden gnomes always stole half of her tomatoes no matter how many they caught, that Ginny liked to cook but hadn't inherited Molly's talent…

In short he knew a lot of details about the Weasley family he didn't care about in the least. But if listening to her chatter would better her impression of him and hopefully keep her off his case at least for some time, then it was definitely worth it.

After breakfast he went directly to the library, as usual. The other teenagers still kept away from him and of the adults he only liked Sirius. He supposed Professor Lupin was okay too, but it irked him the wrong way that this former best friend of his parents had never bothered to contact him before his short teaching stint.

_"An early version of the Runic Alphabet we know and use today was found carved in stone in an underwater cave in the Bay of Fundy. This leads us to believe that a group of early settlers of Nova Scotia originated from the British Isles. Researchers date…" _

Boooring.

Harry shut the book with a thud and put it on top of the large stack of discarded books next to the upholstered chair he was lounging in sideways, feet lazily resting on one arm of the chair. He yearned to be back in his room and do some useful reading…

"Potter?"

His head swiveled around and to his surprise he saw Granger standing not far from him, wringing her hands, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Yes?" He asked, his tone friendlier than usual. He would never admit it, but he was a tiny bit thankful for the distraction.

Granger seemed encouraged by the lack of his usual hostility.

"I thought about what you said."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I mean what you said about the wizarding culture. How it's different from the muggle one. And how I don't know anything about it."

Wow. He really hadn't seen that one coming. Maybe Granger was not as close-minded as her two companions?

"And?" He prodded. Better not praise the day before nightfall.

"And I've come to the conclusion that you had a point. Not in calling me that filthy word, mind you." She shot him quick but icy glare. "But I could have tried to find out more about the differences in our cultures. Just with us celebrating Christmas at Hogwarts and everything… I honestly never thought that there could be something else as well…"

Yep. He definitely hadn't expected that. "And what do you want from me now?"

"Well, you were raised in the muggle world as well."

Harry suppressed a scowl and simply nodded.

"And you obviously learned about the differences somewhere. I've been looking for books on it all over the Black library, but in all of them the authors just assume that the reader already has the right background knowledge and directly start with specific ceremonial rituals and things like that. But I want to start at the beginning. I want to know the history behind it… And I thought that maybe you could point me some good books? You must have learned about it from somewhere after all..."

All of that came out in one big barrage of words and it took Harry a second to process the information. It sounded a bit like a prepared speech and for some reason he could imagine her walking back and forth in her room rehearsing different version of it until she was satisfied.

When he didn't answer immediately she opened her mouth again, probably about to let another speech lose.

"Relax Granger. If you give me some time I'll write you a list with the best titles. "ABC of the Magical Culture" is a good choice to start with. I think it was written by either a halfblood or even muggleborn in the early 1920s. It simplifies a lot of things – it reads a bit like a children's book to be honest – but it gives you a nice overview. Hogwarts doesn't have it but you can order it at Flourish & Blotts."

"Thanks." She smiled at him briefly. "The list would be nice too. I'll leave you to your reading then…"

Harry stared after her disappearing form still a bit startled. Though maybe it shouldn't surprise him that much. She was known for her bookwormish, know-it-all nature, even in Slytherin. It was highly likely that she wasn't interested in the wizarding culture for the sake of it, but rather couldn't stand the idea of not knowing something.

…

That evening Harry left Grimmauld Place with a big black dog in tow. They took the Knight Bus to Godric's Hollow and soon stood in front of a high, iron wrought gate that marked the entrance to the graveyard.

The oppressive heat of the day still lingered in the air. Harry pressed his sweaty palms against each other. He hated this sticky feeling and knew that it would not take long until it spread all over his body, crept underneath his clothes and made them damp and clingy.

Sweating was just something so… disgustingly muggle. Wizards don't sweat. Wizards apply cooling charms.

His hand subconsciously felt for his wand – it did this from time to time ever since his run in with the boggart, just to make sure that it was still whole and here. His searching finger soon met the long, thin wood. Yep. Still here. Still a wizard. A small smile – as unwitting as the preceding action – spread across his lips.

Beyond the gate he could make out countless rows of gravestones. Suddenly he became aware that he had never been to a graveyard before.

Harry put his hand on the gate handle. Push it down. Not difficult at all. Just push it down.

He turned around to make sure that Sirius was still willing to accompany him. The dog returned his gaze and nodded. It was only a small movement, one that unwitting passers-by probably wouldn't even notice, but it gave Harry the reassurance he needed.

For a short moment he wanted to bend down and bury his hand in Sirius' shaggy fur. To give Sirius and himself comfort before they crossed the last threshold that separated them from the evidence of his parents' death. But he didn't do it, couldn't do it, and just went forth through the gate without another look back.

The sun was already setting down, the last lingering threads of light bathing the graves and surrounding trees in warm orange.

Harry didn't know where is parents' grave was located, but it seemed as though Sirius had a rough idea, so Harry followed the large dog through rows and rows of similar looking tombstones. Was this what awaited one after death? Loss of identity, anonymity… forgotten in the mass… Well, the dead probably didn't care either way.

Sirius stopped abruptly.

_In Loving Memory_

_of_

_Lily Potter – James Potter_

That was it. He was here. Harry stared at his parents' grave. The grave of Lily and James, mum and dad. Had he ever learned to speak these words, before their death? Harry didn't know.

At his feet, Sirius whined and Harry's heart jumped a bit. He hadn't known that animal sounds could be so racked with pain. Sirius' whole body trembled, his ribcage lifted and lowered in an unsteady rhythm, but Harry didn't see any tears. Could dogs even cry tears?

Harry sat down and put one arm around Sirius' shaking body. Sirius looked at him, probably to convey his gratitude, but all Harry could make out in those dark grey eyes was a world of pain, loneliness and desperation.

On one hand, Harry wished he could help Sirius' and free him of these horrible feelings, but on the other hand he realized ashamed that he was jealous of his godfather. Jealous of the deep emotions Sirius felt just when looking at Harry's parents' grave. Was it not his right as a son to suffer the most from their death? Shouldn't it be he who was filled with desperation so deep he needed somebody else to hold on to?

Silent tears ran down Harry's face, but not even they could belie the knowledge that the deep emotions Harry had expected failed to appear.

Yes he was sad, very sad, so sad, that he couldn't hold back the tears he had not allowed to flow ever since he was small child, longer. But he was not really grieving for his parents. He didn't know Lily and James, never really had and never would.

The tombstone he sat in front of made that more than clear. No, he grieved for the life he had lost with them. For his uncomplicated and happy childhood. For his carefree youth. For the feeling of being loved unconditionally.

Sirius' put his heavy dog-head in Harry's lap and Harry ruffled the fur between his ears absentmindedly.

He looked back at the tombstone, this time to take a better look at it. It was made of white marble. A bit smaller than the surrounding ones, but in Harry's eyes this divergence in a mass of uniformity only made it something better, special.

Besides his parents' names and their dates of birth and death, only one more sentence was written onto the tombstone.

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed his death._

He stared at the sentence for a few minutes. What was it doing on a tombstone? In a graveyard? In a field of soulless, decaying human shells where everybody had lost the last fight against death already? Was this sentence here to mock them, to make them aware of their powerlessness in face of death? Or was there a deeper meaning to it Harry did not understand? Death could not be destroyed, could it?

As the fiery red sun disappeared behind the cemetery wall to make way for the slowly descending darkness of the night, two silent figures remained, one caught in memories of a better past, the other deep in thought, staring the remnants of a future lost.

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Four... I hope you liked it.<em>

_Aaaaanyway: Please leave your thoughts in a review. _

_If you got the time you could even tell me what you liked and disliked. What captured your attention and what you wished I had written differently or made more interesting. _

_A big thank you to everybody who took a moment and left a review the last time!_


	5. Time flies when you're having fun

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

><p>Chapter Five<p>

Time flies when you're having fun

Harry pressed the door handle down carefully. As soon as the door was half open he slipped out into the dark hallway. Holding his breath he tiptoed past the only other occupied bedroom on the floor – Sirius' room. The man's loud snoring was only sometimes interrupted by even louder grunts. Harry didn't dare light his wand and had to make do without his vision. He crept forth slowly, one hand always touching the wall to his right seeking guidance. When he finally reached the stairs he sighed in relief. Sirius was still fast asleep.

Step by step he crept down the stairs. Time went by painfully slowly. Was the fourth or the fifth step the creaking one?

_Screeetch._

Fifth apparently.

He stopped dead. The noise had sounded like thunder to his anxious ears. Had somebody heard him? He waited for a few seconds but thankfully nobody got up. When he resumed his path he tried to breath as soundlessly as possible.

After what seemed like an eternity Harry finally reached his destination. The Library. Behind him the door fell shut with a soft _klick_.

Harry wasted no more time and directly went for the rearmost shelves, the ones with the Dark Arts books.

During the day it had become nearly impossible for him to search through the library in peace. After he'd helped Mrs Weasley cook breakfast she'd changed her behaviour towards him completely.

She still didn't trust him by any means, but she no longer seemed to be of the opinion that he was an evil Dark wizard. He suspected that somebody had reminded her of his status as an orphan as she now constantly tried to smother him with motherly love, telling him he could come talk to her if something weighed on his mind, cooking his favourite dishes, humorously scolding him for not combing his hair…  
>She'd even stopped giving him the evil eye and was now regarding him with pity instead.<p>

Harry suspected had he still been the eleven-year-old boy starved for affection he might have appreciated the effort but now… it only grated on his nerves. Her jibes on the evilness of Dark Magic were far less subtle than she thought and she was constantly around, trying to include him in that activity and this conversation… disregarding whether he even wanted to be there or not.  
>She treated him like some freaking lost lamb in need of saving and Harry honest to Merlin hated every second of it.<p>

And that was why he was standing in the library, going through book after book on Dark Magic in the dead of the night wearing nothing but his pyjamas.

He had barely one week of holidays left and still not found a curse to deal with the abominable creature in the drawing room. But he would. Before he left Grimmauld Place he would make sure that that bloody boggart felt sorry for attacking him, for humiliating him.

A small voice in the back of his head remarked that he was overreacting, that it was in a boggarts nature to confront their victim with fears… but the experience was still too fresh in his mind to listen to reason. All he knew was that this boggart had made him feel helpless and desperate and on top of everything _magicless._ Feelings he was too familiar with from his childhood.

To him magic still was something wondrous, extraordinary, special. It was what had saved him from the dull and meaningless life his relatives had foretold him. It was what made him different from them and their pointless, boring and altogether too _ordinary_ existence.

To him magic was everything. Safety. Power. Belonging. That boggart had dared to make him believe he had lost it. That boggart had taken is magic away and Harry would make him pay for it.

The next book Harry pulled out looked very old. It had a dark brown leathery cover and its pages were made of something that looked frighteningly similar to human skin. Curious Harry opened it, not aware that he was holding his breath as he did so.

_Of the Blæcest Secrets of Muggle Magick_

Harry's brows furrowed. Muggle Magic? Did that mean muggles could do magic as well?!

Harry flipped through the book, horror and fascination growing with every page he turned, his initial misunderstanding soon cleared up.

Bloody hell. The book in his hands wasn't about muggles using magic as he had first assumed, but about muggles being used in magical rituals. The index alone was so insulting that even Harry couldn't help but feel a bit outraged on the muggles' behalf.

Obviously to the author of this tome muggles had been little more than lab rats. He categorised them in age groups and then discussed their usefulness in certain rituals depending on gender and virginity.

The books started with the youngest age group, which included, Harry realised with disgust, unborn children forcefully extracted from their muggle mother's wombs.

In later chapters the rituals needed things like "blood of a female muggle taken within minutes after her first copulation" or "the still beating heart of a man in his prime". From what he could tell all the rituals in the book were used to strengthen the bodies and minds of witches and wizards in some way or another.

Harry closed the book and was very careful to put it back to its former place. He didn't even want to contemplate what the others – and particularly Mrs Weasley – would do if they thought he was into stuff like that. He suspected that not even his "poor-orphan" leeway could help him much then…

He spent the next hour perusing book after book… but didn't find anything. He sighed in frustration. The loudest sound he had dared to make so far.

Irritated he took his wand out and sent a silencing charm at the door. He knew it was a bit risky – if somebody approached the library now he wouldn't hear them until they opened the door – but it was worth it. If his next attempt worked it could get very loud very fast.

He lifted his wand once more. _"Accio books on boggarts!"_

Nothing happened. Not one little book even so much as twitched a bit.

Resigned he flopped down into the nearest armchair…

"Is sir needing help?"

… and nearly jumped right out of it again.

"W-what?" He stuttered in surprise, staring at the ugly old house-elf. Where the bloody hell did it come from?

"Is sir needing help?" The house-elf repeated obediently.

"Why would you help me?" Harry asked mistrustfully. Was this some kind of trick? Had Sirius sent the elf to find out what books Harry was looking for?

The elf looked at him as though the answer to his question should be obvious.

"Yous is not like bad Master… Bloodtraitor. Flith… defiling the Noble House of Black. Allowing mudbloods inside… dirty maggots… no respect for Mistress…"

Kreacher continued to insult the current residents of Grimmauld Place in more and more creative ways until Harry cleared his throat loudly.

"Yous is not like that. Yous is in the Noble House of Slytherin. Yous remind Kreacher of Master Regulus. So Kreacher will help yous."

Harry stared at the elf and couldn't help but grin widely.

"I need a book that can tell my how to destroy boggarts. Not temporarily scare them away but destroy them." Harry said. "Kill them." He added in an afterthought to avoid any misunderstandings.

Kreacher returned Harry's grin with a mean, nearly toothless smile of its own.

"Sir is ridding Mistress' house of that filthy thing? Disturbs Kreacher's sleep with its rattling, it does."

The elf snapped its fingers and a small book with a pale blue linen cover appeared in its hand. With another snap it lay in Harry's lap. Said boy in the meanwhile had been staring at the elf in wonder.

"Thank you." He croaked, forgetting that one normally didn't have to thank elves.

The elf looked down at the floor. "Kreacher only being good elf. Mistress always said Kreacher good elf." It mumbled, sounding a bit shocked but also satisfied.

The book Kreacher had supplied was a manual on boggarts. Harry skipped the chapters discussing their origins, mating cycles and so forth and went directly for the last chapter.

_When dealing with a boggart, the deciding factor is willpower. The weak-minded will succumb to their fears, lose the necessary focus and concentration thus rendering the curse – should they even succeed in completing the incantation – useless.  
><em>_While ridiculing the creature (see Ch.7) will lead to a temporary defeat, its destruction can only be reached when its own weapons are turned against it._

_A boggart is killed in two steps._

_1) __Bind the boggart.  
><em>_A boggarts natural reaction to retaliation is to return to its hiding place. Boggarts are immune to most spells and curses. Use "remane" (details below) to bind him temporarily._

_2) __Kill the boggart.  
><em>_The (now bound) boggart will confront you with your deepest fears. Allow them to flood your mind but do not let yourself get overwhelmed by them. Never forget that it is just a boggart in front of you.  
><em>_Concentrate on the feelings of fear and helplessness, then, while speaking the incantation (experire terrorem) project them on the boggart. Hold the focus until the boggart implodes under the strain of your terrors.  
><em>_It is important that you truly want the boggart to feel your terrors._

_Killing a boggart is no small feat and should not be underestimated. It is easy to get lost in ones fears._

Well… that didn't sound too hard.

After practicing the wand movements and pronunciations a few times Harry got up from the chair, grabbed his wand and strode towards the door. Before he could leave the library Kreacher spoke up again.

"Is sir needing anything else?"

Harry looked at the elf contemplatively. The book hadn't mentioned how noisy killing a boggart would be… would it scream?

"Can you ward a room to be soundproof?"

"Kreacher can." The elf bobbed its head enthusiastically, its large ears flapping around like bat wings.

"Then come along. But be quiet. Nobody must hear us." Harry opened the door with caution and sneaked through the dark hallway and up the stairs to the second floor, the old house-elf trailing behind him noiselessly.

They stepped inside the second drawing room. The curtains were not drawn and mild light, shining in from the street, illuminated the room. Harry waited for Kreacher to do his part, barely daring to breath. Mrs Weasley slept on the second floor.

"It's done, sir." Kreacher's croaky voice broke the silence.

Harry only nodded. Thanking the elf twice a day would give it the wrong ideas, and probably diminish the elf's currently high opinion of him anyway.

Harry looked at the cabinet and hesitated. What if he couldn't do it? He shook his head. Of course he could do it.

He grabbed his wand so hard that his knuckles shone white in the pale light of the moon.

He took another deep breath. The image of his broken wand came to his mind.

For Merlin's sake it was only a boggart!

He pointed his wand at the cabinet. _"Alohomora!"_

The door opened and Harry lifted his wand, prepared to see the dark haired Auror again. Only this time instead of long, manicured hands, pudgy fingers grabbed the wood and pushed the door open.

A fat belly, barely hidden behind an ugly mustard yellow pullover, appeared second. The rest was also not far behind.

_"Remane!" _Harry shouted, desperate to get his plan in motion.

Piggy little eyes darted across the room. As soon as they found him the lips stretched into a welcoming smile.

"Harry! Put that thing away and come in. Have you been playing wizard again? We told you already: There is no such thing as magic." The man barked out a loud laugh, his moustache dancing merrily above his lips.

Harry could only stare wide-eyed. This was the single most friendly tone his uncle had ever used when addressing him. Not your uncle, the small voice in the back of his had remarked, but it didn't get through the thick fog of astonishment and confusion that clouded Harry's mind.

"Now come on, boy. You really got to stop living in your dreams. Reality is not nice, I know. But even a little ninny like you will find a job some day. And in the meanwhile you'll just stay here with us." Vernon smiled at him reassuringly and it was probably the most frightening thing Harry had seen in his life.

Why would that man smile at him like that? As if he liked him? As if he didn't hate him because of his freakishness…

"You got to stop living in your dreams boy, I'll say it again. Magic is just not real." Vernon repeated and Harry felt as though he was going mad. Magic was real! He was nothing like the rest of them; he was special! And not in a crazy person sort of way.

"Boy your Aunt is waiting. You can play wizard again tomorrow." His uncle guffawed and clasped his wobbling overly large belly with one hand. "Magic real." He laughed. "And tomorrow they'll tell us the aliens have arrived…"

Aliens? Magic? Maybe it was all really just a dream. It had been too good to be reality…

Suddenly Uncle Vernon held Harry's wand. "We'll find you a new stick to play with tomorrow." He said, and broke it in two.

As Harry saw the two pieces of wood sail to the floor, his mind connected that picture with the one from earlier and his awareness returned in a rush.

Boggart. He was so stupid. He really wanted to kick himself. Hard. He'd let that damned creature ensnare him again.

Not wasting any more time he lifted his wand.

_"Experire Terrorem." _Harry hissed venomously through clenched teeth while concentrating on the raw fear he'd felt only moments before. The fear that his magic was a lie and that he was powerless again.

Oh yes, Harry had no problem wishing all his fears on the boggart. That it had taken the form of his hated uncle was only strengthening Harry's resolve.

Satisfaction spread through him as he watched boggart-Vernon cower on the floor, clutching his fat belly desperately in obvious pain. Yes, revenge truly was sweet.

"You are nothing. Your blood is dirty. Soon you will be only one more tombstone in a sea of grey." Boggart-Vernon spat, trying one last time to use Harry's fears against him.

But Harry welcomed the words. They only served to strengthen his wish to see the boggart as terrified as the creature was trying to make him.

Suddenly boggart-Vernon sagged to the floor and started to moan loudly. The contour of Vernon's body lost focus, grew blurred, some body parts flickered in and out of focus. His mouth opened wide, eyes nearly bulging out, taking on an orange hue, and with one last, long-drawn-out inhuman shriek the boggart imploded.

He disintegrated in millions of tiny dust particles that hovered mid air for a moment, moving fast and desperate trying to assume a permanent form again. Suddenly the dust cloud halted, as if frozen in time, then, in a wave like motion it rose up once more, quivered and fell down to the floor.

Harry stared at the small pile of dust on the ground. The carpet around smoked slightly and seemed to be burned. A wide grin spread across his face. He, Harry, the scrawny boy from Little Whinging had managed to kill a boggart. He'd managed to stay concentrated while confronted with his worst fears. To Harry it felt as though he had not only defeated the boggart but also those fears, at least in some way.

_"Scourgify." _Harry murmured and vanished the last remains of the boggart. The burned spot remained and Harry realized that he didn't know any charms to repair damage like that.

"Kreacher!" He called out for the elf. It was cowering in the farthest corner of the room looking at Harry with big, dull eyes.

"Sir is great wizard. Like Master Regulus. No mudblood filth." It whispered to itself as it made its way to Harry. "What can Kreacher do for sir?" It asked reverently.

"Repair the carpet." Harry ordered, pointing at the burned spot near them.

Kreacher nodded and snapped its fingers, but nothing happened. The elf looked at Harry fearfully. "Kreacher can't undo it. Kreacher is sorry. Kreacher will punish himself severely."

Harry sighed. "You probably can't undo it because it was made by Dark Magic. There is no need to punish yourself."

...

The next morning when Harry came down, the kitchen was already filled with people. The four Weasley children, Longbottom, Granger, Lupin, Mrs Weasley and Sirius were all sitting around the table laden with food.

Mrs Weasley looked up and smiled when he entered the room. "Good morning Harry! Come sit down? Do you want scrambled eggs? – Ronald, pick that up right now!"

"Mum! I'd've picked it up in a second anyway!" Weasley argued back while he bent down to retrieve his buttered toast from the floor. He blew on it twice and then shoved half the toast in his mouth, chewing open mouthed. Harry watched disgusted.

During breakfast Harry let their chatter wash over him, not really paying it any mind until Mrs Weasley brought up the boggart.

"Normally I hear it rattle that cabinet every morning, but today there was nothing but silence. So of course I went inside, even opened the cabinet, but it's gone."

Lupin regarded her doubtfully. "Are you sure Molly? Boggarts don't just leave… maybe it moved somewhere else? Did you check the old grandfather clock?"

"Of course! I looked everywhere, but it's gone! Oh, and then there was that scorch mark on the carpet. Couldn't get rid of it. I thought maybe that elf, Kreacher, did something to the boggart?" She looked at Sirius questioningly but Sirius was fixing Harry with his eyes.

"Yeah, could've been Kreacher." He replied absentmindedly.

When Harry got up Sirius followed him outside. He grabbed Harry's shoulder rather harshly and didn't say anything until they reached Harry's room.

"Did you kill the boggart?" Sirius was leaning against the closed door, watching Harry's reaction carefully.

Harry felt Sirius heavy gaze, it somehow seemed to limit his ability to think fast. Merlin. Why was Sirius staring at him like that? What should he say? Could it really have been Kreacher? He opened his mouth to tell Sirius that he didn't know what he was talking about but Sirius was faster. His voice, sharper than usual, cut through the silence.

"I want you to consider carefully what you tell me now, I don't tolerate liars Harry."

Feeling caught Harry shut his mouth without speaking.

"Did you kill the boggart Harry?" Sirius asked again, more forcefully this time.

"Yes." Harry bit out defiantly. "So what?"

Sirius just shook his head looking somewhat disappointed. For reasons Harry couldn't understand seeing that look directed at him made his stomach clench painfully. He forced the feeling down. He refused to let Sirius stupid sensibilities cheapen his triumph.

"Harry…" Sirius sighed, sounding somehow older, wearier. "Why would you do that? How did you even know how to do that?"

"I found the curse in the library." Harry answered brusquely.

"How?"

"By looking for it." He would be damned if he revealed Kreacher's involvement, the elf was too useful.

"But why where you even looking for it? That was Dark Magic Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, running his finger through his long hair clearly agitated.

"Because I wanted to kill the boggart."

"Yeah, I got that. But why?"

"It attacked me. I wanted to get it back."

His godfather shot him a troubled look. "Get it back? Harry, it was just a boggart."

"Well, it was a boggart that humiliated me."

Sirius sighed deeply. "And you just had to go and kill it? Wouldn't ridiculing it have been enough?"

"No." Harry answered stubbornly, he couldn't tell Sirius why the attack had rattled him so much. Why ridiculing it wouldn't have been enough. That was too personal.

For a while nobody said anything, then:

"Did you know the curse you used was Dark Magic?"

Yes. No. Should he go with the truth or try to lie? One look at Sirius told him all he needed to know.

"Yes, I knew that it was Dark Magic."

"And that didn't bother you?" All emotion was gone from Sirius' voice.

"No." Harry didn't dare to look at Sirius lest he'd have to see the disappointment in his eyes again.

"I didn't want to believe Molly when she told me…" Sirius sighed. "Probably should've. But with you being James' son… A Potter… I just didn't think…"

Harry gritted his teeth so hard they hurt. "I'm not my father." He bit out angrily. "I never knew my father. I'm just me, not James junior. If you can't deal with that, then I'm sorry." Harry stared at the floor. He didn't need Sirius anyway.

A warm hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look up, right into Sirius' expressive grey eyes. Harry thought he could see concern in them. "I didn't mean it like that. You know I like you for who you are. I'm just… You're…" He floundered.

"I'm just concerned. Dark Magic is nothing to be trifled with. Yes it can be useful, make you feel powerful… But Harry, you must never forget that the Dark Arts are dangerous. They change those who use them, corrupt them…" Sirius looked at him with desperation clear on his face.

Harry only stared back blankly. He'd never have thought that Sirius believed that load of tripe. Of course they were dangerous, but to others. That's why they were termed "Dark" after all. Because they could harm your opponent like nothing else, because they left permanent marks, wounds nothing could heal…

"I know I can't forbid you to use them, but Harry, you ought to be careful. Promise me." Sirius looked at him with so much sincerity that Harry couldn't bear it not to do as he was asked.

"I promise. I'll be careful." Harry said, though he was not sure what exactly that meant.

Sirius nodded, but didn't smile. "Good." He said and turned to leave. He closed the door only to open it again one moment later. "If you ever have questions. You can… Just ask me okay? Before you ask any of your housemates' fathers or something. I was raised a Black after all." Then he shut the door firmly.

…

"Sirius?" Harry hollered up and down the stairs. Five days had passed ever since their little confrontation and things had actually changed for the better. As his secret was out of the bag now anyway and the feared consequence – Sirius forbidding him to use the Black library – had not ensued, Harry could read the books more freely. Of course he still didn't flaunt the fact that he was learning Dark Magic in front of Mrs Weasley – that would be suicidal.

"Yes?" A voice finally shouted back from somewhere on the topmost floor.

Harry ran up the stairs and found Sirius lazing around in a cosy chair in an otherwise very dusty, empty room. He was staring out of the window, watching the passers-by going after their day-to-day life with a wistful expression on his haggard looking face.

"Do you…" Harry panted a bit. He'd been running up and down the stairs a few times already before he'd found Sirius. "Do you know if the Potters wrote family journals?"

The idea had come to him just a few minutes ago, while he was reading a journal of yet another of Sirius numerous ancestors.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't know. Why do you want to know?"

"Well… If they wrote one then I could get to know more about them, about my family. Maybe my father even wrote one, do you think that's possible?" Harry couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice.

Sirius tipped his head back and stared at the dirty ceiling. "I know that James never bothered to write one. We were all still so young at the time… But the other Potters? Sure. Could be. It was very en vogue for purebloods to do so. They were all such important people after all; they couldn't just let their lives be forgotten. Merlin forbid."

Harry decided to ignore the bitterness in Sirius' voice. The nearer the beginning of the school year drew, the more Sirius secluded himself. To find him in a less then cheerful mood had become the new norm in recent days.

"Do you know where I find them, if there are some?" Harry pressed on.

"Hm… Maybe in your parents' house in Godric's Hollow… It should still be in the same state your parents left it…" His voice broke.

"Could we go take a look?" Harry asked immediately. He'd wanted to know more about his father's family ever since he found out he was a wizard. All he knew for now was knowledge the general public had access to, which was basically nothing.

"James died there."

"He did." Harry didn't know what else to say. He still wanted to go.

Sirius stared at him for a long moment. "Let's talk about it again in the winter holidays, Harry. You're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow and leaving the day after… there wouldn't be any time left now anyway."

With that Sirius turned away to continue watching the street, ignoring his godson's presence completely.

Harry sighed. He really didn't understand what was going on with Sirius at the moment. It was obvious that his godfather grew increasingly frustrated with his confinement, but in Harry's opinion shutting oneself away could only make matters worse.

…

Harry waved the Weasleys goodbye and strode towards the waiting group of Slytherins. Like every year Theo, Blaise, Tracey and he met to do their shopping together. Theo welcomed him with raised eyebrows.

"I can't wait to hear the story behind that." He said, nodding in the direction the Weasley matriarch alongside her multiple children as well as Granger and Longbottom had disappeared.

"Yeah well, I'm pretty curious about your summer too, your letters weren't exactly informative." Harry shot back. "Hey Tracey, Blaise." He greeted the other two.

"Later." Theo mouthed with a pointed look in Tracey's direction. "Blaise was just telling us about his marvellous summer, weren't you?"

"Oh shut up." The dark skinned boy replied moodily. "My mother dragged me all over Italy and then left me with my grandmother to spend some 'quality time' with her latest conquest." He elaborated for Harry's benefit.

"It was horrible. My grandmother is the most overbearing person there is. She treated me like a five year old. Always demanding to know what I was doing – not that telling her was really a problem. There was nothing to do in that dump of a town anyway."

"Ah come on. It couldn't have been that bad. Isn't Italy supposed to have pretty girls at least?" Harry asked his friend cheekily.

"Yeah, one should think so… but the only witch my age was the daughter of a famous chef. Sadly she looked the part." Blaise sighed, shaking his head regretfully.

"You know Blaise, if you keep talking like that some people might think you're superficial…" Tracey commented.

"Yes, and wouldn't that be a misconception… Our dear Blaise would never judge people based on their looks." Theo said, rolling his eyes.

Blaise only lifted his chin and looked at them down his nose. "I'm only looking for an equal, if that's too much to ask…"

Harry snorted audibly. He knew while right now Blaise was only joking around, deep down his friend probably truly believed this. After all when it came to arrogance Blaise could give Malfoy a run for his money.

Nevertheless he enjoyed listening to their friendly banter, it was refreshing after spending a whole month cooped up with people who took every word overly serious. Granger would probably already be up in arms, lecturing them about how 'people of all sizes were equally beautiful'…

"So… Florish & Blotts?" Tracey suggested, and the boys followed her lead.

The shopping day went by quickly. After visiting Flourish & Blotts they bought new robes at Madame Malkin's – were Blaise couldn't help but tell them about all the superior Italian tailors with their even more superior Italian fabrics he'd visited with his mother –, stocked their potions ingredients up at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary and finally ended up treating themselves to a nice sundae at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

After that Blaise and Tracey left to buy owl treats.

"Where do you want to go now?"

"I have an idea." Theo replied and led them to a dingy looking pub at the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

"So, are you finally going to tell me about your summer?" Harry asked staring at Theo over the rim of his butterbeer mug.

Theo shifted in his seat, looking around anxiously. Then he pulled out his wand and murmured a charm as discretely as possible.

"I can't risk anybody overhearing us." He replied in answer to Harry's raised eyebrows.

"Well, that's got to be some tale." Harry remarked dryly.

Theo only groaned. "You've no idea… I really shouldn't be telling you this… I shouldn't even be thinking about telling you this… Anyway." He looked at Harry sharply. "What I tell you know must not leave this room, am I clear? I could get in so much trouble for this. And my father would probably be the least of my problems…"

"Spit it out Theo. You know I would never do anything that could harm you."

The addressed boy nodded pensively. "I know. And that's the only reason why I'm even telling you."

Theo stopped again. This time to bite one of his fingernails nervously and Harry had to resist the extremely strong urge to slap him. It couldn't be that bad, could it? On the other hand he'd never seen Theo bite his fingernails before… normally the proud boy resented such plebeian behaviour.

"Hisback" Theo whispered.

"I didn't understand a thing. You put a charm up Theo, you can speak clearly you know?"

Theo shot him an annoyed look. "Yeah I know." He took a deep breath. "He's back Harry. The Dark Lord. He's really back."

Harry didn't know whether he should be relieved or annoyed. He'd already known this, for Merlin's sake. If he hadn't already been convinced at the end of last school year, spending one whole month in the Headquarters of a secret anti-Voldemort organization would have probably done the job by now.

"We already came to that conclusion on the train ride home from Hogwarts you know…" Harry said carefully.

"But that was different Harry. We were only contemplating it as one possibility. Even I wasn't completely sure back then… But now… Please just don't do anything stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… Death Eaters killed your parents…"

"It was war back then. People die during war times. You know I've accepted that." Harry answered emotionlessly.

"Yeah you say that… but I mean… I'm just worried. I don't want you meet the same end. And from what my father says there'll probably be another war sometime soon."

"I'm not my parents Theo, I don't hold the same views, you of all people should be aware of that."

Theo only laughed, but the sound was devoid of any amusement.

"Yeah I know that. Our friends know that. But the important people don't. All they see is yet another Potter consorting with the Wonder Boy and his mudlblood and blood traitor friends." Dark nut-brown eyes stared into Harry's green ones imploringly.

Harry sighed. Maybe he owed his friend some answers too.

"I spent the summer with Sirius Black. Golden Boy and consorts stayed with him too."

Theo shook his head. "It's still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that The Sirius Black, supreme Death Eater and right hand man of the Dark Lord is really innocent of these accusation and now you're telling me you spent your summer getting cosy with him and Longbottom?"

"I certainly didn't get _cosy _with Longbottom." Harry hissed back. "You know I can't stand the prat."

"Well… one summer can change a lot… but maybe you were too preoccupied leering after the little know-it-all mudblood…" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Theo! Stop that. It's not funny. And just so you know, she might be a know-it-all and a mudblood to boot, but that doesn't change the fact that she's a great girl!" Harry replied in mock outrage.

Theo's face went slack. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Of course I am." Harry sneered. "Though all things considered she really is the most tolerable out of the lot of them."

His friend huffed in annoyance. "Yes, yes… Be that as it may, we got off topic. I understand that you spent the summer with them because you wanted to get to know you godfather, but Harry, when we're back at school you need to stay away from them. You really don't want to give people the wrong ideas."

"I don't know why you're making such a drama out of this. Not that I'm saying I want to spend time with them-" He quickly reassured his friend when Theo opened his mouth once more. "-I'm just saying that I don't understand why you're so worried. We'll be at Hogwarts, far away from everything."

"You don't get it do you?" Theo fixed him with the most serious expression Harry had ever seen on his friend's face. "The Dark Lord is back, Harry. There is no _far away_ anymore. You can be sure that people like Malfoy – people like _me _– will report anything conspicuous back to their parents and thus to the Dark Lord. He's back, lying in wait until he has a better picture of the current state of affairs. He is looking for potential followers and adversaries as we speak. I don't say that you should behave like you wanted to become a Death Eater, but you sure as hell also don't want to appear to be his enemy. Consorting with Longbottom and his lot would definitely attract the wrong kind of attention."

A few minutes later Harry left the pub deep in thought. Theo's warning worried him greatly. Were things truly already getting that serious? Already reaching Hogwarts, his home, his sanctuary?

He'd thought being a student would give him time to watch from the side-lines, stay uninvolved for the time being… Even though Theo hadn't said it outright the message was clear: Being who he was, a Potter, a war orphan, a Slytherin, a reasonably skilled and powerful wizard, certain people would keep an eye on him, maybe even expect him to pick a side sooner or later, and how he behaved now could open or close future doors.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you liked it! Thanks for all the great reviews. It's really motivating to hear what you think of the story! <em>

_Somebody wrote he/she hoped the story would contain slash later on, so I'll say it again: My Harry is straight. Definitely no Voldemort/Harry pairing anywhere in the future._

_Another reviewer pointed out that there are a few grammar and spelling mistakes. I'm really trying to avoid them, but English isn't my first language and some of the grammatical structures might sound right to me but completely wrong to the ears of native speakers. __If you find really bad ones or ones that disturb the reading flow I would be grateful if you could point them out to me. (If you have enough time to point out the smaller mistakes too, I wouldn't mind correcting them either, of course.)_

_Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	6. Hogwarts Year 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Six<em>

_Hogwarts Year 5_

Carefully Harry placed a pair of trousers on top of the small black leather bound notebook in his trunk. At the moment, this notebook was one of his most precious possessions. It held as many Dark curses as he had managed to copy out of the books he'd dug up in the confusing depths of the Black library.

He grabbed his trunk and dragged it down stairs, though not without dropping it on his toes twice. He cursed under his breath. A simple feather-light charm would have made all of this so much easier. Thrice damned Weasley family and their stupid rules.

"We're leaving in 5 minutes!" Molly shouted at the top of her lungs the moment Harry entered the kitchen. "Oh sorry dear, didn't see you there." She apologised when she saw Harry standing in the door, his free hand pressed against one of his ringing ears. Mrs Weasley sure had strong lungs. He only nodded and watched her prepare some last minute snacks for the train ride.

Twenty minutes later they finally left the house, a big black dog trailing after them. Rain was pouring down the dark clouded sky like there was no tomorrow, and the short distance from the house to magically enlarged car and from said car to the train station was enough to leave Harry soaking wet.

The second he arrived at platform 9 ¾ he withdrew his wand and cast several drying charms over his clothes and hair, it felt good to be able to use magic out in the open again.

He looked up satisfied and the first thing he saw were cold grey eyes, staring at him from nearby, one delicate eyebrow raised questioningly.

Great. He could imagine what this looked like. He was standing so close to the Weasley family and the Wonder Trio that there could be no doubt that he'd arrived with them. It was just his luck that Draco Malfoy would be the one to see him. Ignoring Malfoy Harry bent down to pet Sirius farewell and hurriedly waved the rest of the group goodbye. Theo's warning was still fresh in his mind.

Sadly Mrs Weasley had other plans. Before he could get away the red haired woman grabbed him and spun him around. "Oh Harry! Are you leaving already? It was nice to get to know you." Her strong arms pressed him against her large, still wet bosom. "Maybe we'll see you over Christmas?"

Before Harry could answer she continued. "Oh and what have you done to your hair? You look like you have doxies nesting in there." She brushed one hand through his unruly mob. "Ah… An overenthusiastic drying charm, am I right? We'll have that fixed in a jiffy!"

She swished her wand and then held him at arms lengths to look him over once more. "There. Perfect."

Harry touched his hair hesitantly. It really felt better, more moistened somehow. "Thank you." He nearly stumbled over the words, still caught in the aftershocks of this sudden attack.

Merlin, he really wished the floor would just part and swallow him whole. Malfoy was right behind him.

There was no chance in hell the boy hadn't witnessed this… this _spectacle_, all the while standing next to his prim and proper parents who knew that things like _this_ were simply not done in a public place like this. He only hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt hot.

Quiet sniggers coming from behind Mrs Weasley pulled him out of his thoughts, and he glared at the offending youngest Weasley brother. He had no idea why the boy thought he had any right to laugh, that woman was _his mother_ after all.

Mrs Weasley obviously saw his less than happy expression and let go of him immediately.

"Ooh…" She said, as though some huge revelation had just come to her. "Of course. You are at that age. Ron is a bit touchy too, at the moment. It's just not cool to have a mum fuss about you, is it?" She winked at him.

"Uhm… yeah… Thanks again." Harry said, not sure what to answer to that. "I'll be off, then."

And he turned around quickly, purposefully ignoring Malfoy (who he could just feel staring at him intently), and boarded the Hogwarts Express.

The train was bustling with students and their pets. More than once Harry had to wait for somebody to clear his trunk off the gangway before he could continue. When he finally found his friend's compartment the train was already moving.

"There you are." He breathed in relieve and flopped down into the free seat next to Blaise. "I've been looking for you all over the train."

With a flick of his wand and a murmured _"Wingardium Leviosa" _he placed his trunk in the luggage rack above their heads.

Blaise looked at Harry's school robes and groaned loudly.

"What?" Harry asked puzzled.

"You don't have the prefect badge. Neither do Theo or I. No sane person would give it to Crabbe or Goyle. That means our dear Draco Malfoy got the honour." Blaise scrunched up his nose to make clear what exactly he thought of that.

For as long as Harry knew them, Blaise and Malfoy had been in competition with each other. Be it influential parents, expensive clothing, the purity of their lines or school grades, they always tried to trump the other. As a prefect Malfoy clearly won the 'more influential in Slytherin' round.

Theo and Harry where somewhat included when it came to the academic side of their competition but they never bothered with the rest; everybody knew, after all, that the Notts where not nearly as influential or rich as the Malfoys or that Harry's blood could never be as pure as theirs.

Yes, Harry was a little pissed that Malfoy was named prefect, he was the better student – except for Potions – after all, but there was not much use in crying over spilt milk.

"Look on the bright side." Harry answered. "Malfoy is the one who has to patrol the cold Dungeons at night while we are lying in warm beds."

Blaise only rolled his eyes. "I would gladly patrol the Dungeons. Being prefect is not only important while we're at school but also afterwards. It's something that sets you apart from others and gives you an advantage in job interviews. It says you were the best and most responsible of your housemates. And now Malfoy got it."

Theo sniggered. "Aren't you exaggerating a bit? I think you got prefect and headboy confused. The second one is the prestigious one. Being a prefect doesn't say much."

"Yeah, yeah… tell that to the Ministry's job interviewers." Blaise answered sulky, arms crossed. "I bet Mr Malfoy paid Snape to get Draco that position." His voice was coloured with resentment, but also a bit envy and admiration. "I should have thought of that earlier. Mother wouldn't have objected to lend me a financial hand in that situation either."

Harry decided to keep his mouth shut. He severely doubted that bribery was the reason Malfoy was prefect. Snape just liked the boy; that was probably enough.

…

Harry stared at the pink, toad-like woman that had just interrupted the headmaster during his welcoming speech, as though he were a mere first year and not the esteemed Dark Lord defeater Albus Dumbledore.

"Hem-Hem… Thank you, headmaster, for those kind words of welcome. The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of a vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this… historic school, progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be… prohibited!" Only a few students clapped, most stared at her dumbfounded.

"Thank you. I know we will all be great friends soon!"

She smiled at the students, remarkably white teeth flashing between pink lips the same colour as her horrible blazer, before she turned around and walked back with deliberately small steps.

"I'd love to see the job ad for the Defence post." Tracey grumbled under her breath while their new Professor returned to her seat. "It should be statistically impossible to find this many creepy people in a row."

"Moody wasn't that bad." Harry threw in between bites. If one ignored the tiny imposter issue…

"Yeah, not bad at all. Just casting Unforgivables on students." Tracey defended her line of thought.

"Oh! And not to forget the one time he transfigured Draco into a ferret!" Blaise smirked from the other side of the table, while Malfoy grew a little pale around the nose.

"And then that Lockhart guy, was he even capable of the disarming charm?" Tracey continued.

"Then we got that bloody werewolf…" Blaise added.

"And now a toad, apparently." Theo finished their little trip down memory lane.

"With that doddering old codger for a headmaster, what do you expect?" Pansy Parkinson budded in, most of the Slytherins around her nodding in agreement.

Harry though was sure that Dumbledore was not really as senile as the Prophet liked to paint him. The few times he'd caught a glimpse of him during his stay at Grimmauld Place he had presented a convincing leader and a person commanding great respect from the other adults.

"I have in good authority-" Malfoy joined the conversation. "-that Madame Umbridge was appointed by the Minister himself. Dumbledore didn't have much choice in the matter. Minister Fudge thought that somebody should look after the happenings here."

That was an interesting development. So Dumbledore's influence and reputation had already dwindled so far that the Minister felt secure in meddling with Hogwarts?

"My father said-" Malfoy continued, eyes glimmering with malice. "-that Fudge also sent her to put Longbottom in his place."

"So even if she's a crap teacher she's at least good for something." Harry grinned. After spending one month at the receiving end of Longbottom's and Weasley's hateful glares he quite liked the idea of seeing the moronic Gryffindors be 'put in their place'.

After the Welcoming Feast Harry slowly descended down to the Slytherin common room.

He'd fallen behind his housemates deliberately to savour his first moment back at home in peace. He took in a deep breath of the damp dungeon air, enjoying its dusty and slightly mouldy smell. He'd never say it out loud because he knew how ridiculously sentimental it sounded, but this smell was one of his favourites ever since his first year at the castle. He brushed the ancient walls with his fingertips and imagined he could feel the magic saturated stone hum softly, welcoming him back.

…

Defence Against the Dark Arts exceeded even Harry's worst expectations. Sure, he had suspected that the Fudge-approved spy wouldn't really be a competent teacher, but within the first minutes of the lesson she had managed to convey that her class wouldn't simply be boring, it would be a joke.

They weren't even allowed to use magic. Harry looked around the Slytherin-only class and really wished they'd shared it with the Gryffindors, their reaction would've been far more amusing – and stupid – than his own housemates cautious acceptance.

Harry stared down at his copy of "Defensive Magical Theory" by Wilbert Slinkhard. He really tried to concentrate on the passage he was reading, but he never even got past the first sentence without his mind wandering away. Oh he would dearly like to meet that author and try a few of the jinxes the man so obviously disliked on him. It should be forbidden to publish a textbook that dry and boring.

D.A.D.A. was their last class of the day and after dinner the Slytherins went down to their common room.

"Harry! Fancy losing a game of chess to start the year in a traditional manner?" Theo asked, already grinning broadly at his best friend. "Or are you finally going to acknowledge my superiority?"

"You wait Nott! There'll come a day when I win and then I'll have the last laugh!" Harry retorted, pretending to be offended while already marching up to the 5th year's dorm room to retrieve his chess pieces.

Like every year his bed was the last one on the right side, below one of the round windows embedded in the dark grey stonewall. Only a few streams of dull sunlight made it through the murky green depths of the Great Lake, not enough to illuminate the room sufficiently. Some of the other upper years spelled the windows to show a false view of the Hogwarts grounds, but Harry always enjoyed falling asleep under that soft, green glow.

Back downstairs in the common room Theo had already prepared the chessboard. "Back Potter? I thought you'd run away from the challenge…"

Harry only smirked. "That only goes to show that you don't know me as well as you think, Nott."

The following game proceeded as expected. It was a massacre on a chessboard and Harry's pieces soon started arguing with him, refusing to follow his orders, while Theo's dragged them one after the other off the playing board.

"Ah…" Theo stretched his arms contentedly. "Good to know that some things never change."

"Yeah, yeah…" Harry grumbled, collecting his still pouting chess pieces. In truth he enjoyed their annual start of the term game just as much as Theo, no matter if he won or lost.

In their first year, when both of them had still been a bit shy and quiet, they had become friends after Theo had offered to teach Harry how to play wizarding chess.

Thanks to Dudley Dursley's interference Harry had not had any friends before coming to Hogwarts, nobody had ever asked him to play with them in fear of Dudley's reaction. So Theo not only asking him to play but also offering to teach Harry how to play… it had been something special to the then eleven year old and was the reason why he still liked chess, even though he lost practically all the time.

…

Later that night, when all of their dorm mates were already fast asleep, Harry grabbed his little black journal and tiptoed to Theo's bed. He parted the dark green curtains carefully, slipped in and closed them behind him. Theo's bedside lamp was still lit; the dark haired boy had obviously been waiting for him. Harry sat down comfortably and cast a sticking and silencing charm at the curtains.

"So what did you want to show me?" Theo asked curiously.

"This." Harry answered and placed the small journal in Theo's lap. Theo opened it and flipped through it curiously. When he reached the last few pages his eyes widened.

"Some of these curses are extremely dangerous and old…" The boy whispered reverently. "I thought you spent the summer with Longbottom and his lot… where did you find them?"

Harry grinned, satisfied that his friend was appropriately impressed. "I spent the holidays with them but _at _Sirius Black's house."

"You mean you had access to the Black library? Merlin, Harry! It's said to hold real treasures. Like… really old books… centuries old! And not only books about Dark Curses and stuff but also Rituals." He spoke the last few words quietly, as if afraid somebody might overhear them despite the silencing charm.

Harry remembered the book about rituals using muggles as sacrifices and grimaced. "Yeah… I came across three or four books on rituals…"

"You came across three or four…" Theo repeated, wide eyed. "Have you copied some of the rituals too? Or did you take one with you?" He asked eagerly but Harry only shook his head, not really understanding Theo's excitement. "Nah, I looked through them but most of them were either extremely difficult or not really practical."

"Not practical?! Not practical… I can't believe you! Harry good books on dark rituals are extremely rare and expensive. It's hard to find them, even on Knockturn Alley. Many of them were destroyed and selling – sometimes even possession – of the remaining ones has been forbidden because the Ministry deems them too dangerous. Merlin… I'd give so much to have access that library…"

"Doesn't your family own some books like that too?" Harry asked confused.

"Yeah, we do, but not a lot. My family was never as rich as the Blacks and books like that were always rarities. And when the Ministry suspected my father of being a Death Eater he had to get rid of the more dangerous ones. Bloody meddling fools." Theo scowled darkly. "Anyway. You think you could take one of them with you next time?"

Harry only shrugged noncommittally. "Don't know. I'd be hard to smuggle them past Mrs Weasley and Sirius… and don't you think Hogwarts has wards to detect stuff that dark? The ones you want to read probably reek of Dark Magic… I don't even want to think about what'd happen if somebody found a book like that in my possession…"

"Hmmm… You're probably right…" Theo sighed. "I'd just love to read one… All that knowledge… long forgotten…" He stared ahead unseeingly and Harry was once again reminded that his friend had nearly been sorted into Ravenclaw.

Theo's obsession with books and obscure knowledge exceeded Harry's by far. While Harry was probably the more magically powerful of them, Theo absorbed any and all knowledge like a sponge. He even managed to find something interesting in Herbology, a feet Harry thought admirable.

"So…" Harry nudged the absentminded boy next to him. "Back to the journal. What do you think of it? I thought we could start practicing the spells together. We could start with the easier ones I wrote down in the beginning."

"Didn't you practice them during the holidays?" Theo asked, now fully concentrated on the present again.

"Practice? As you pointed out only a few minutes ago, I spent my holidays cooped up in a house with Longbottom and the whole Weasley family. What d'ya think, that they'd let me practice Dark Curses in my room?" Harry looked at his friend incredulously.

"Right, right…" He opened the journal once more and read the first few pages carefully. "Well, we can practice them if you want, but honestly, I know most of them already, I'd rather start with the more difficult ones right away."

"You know them already?" Harry was surprised. "Since when? The last time I asked you to teach me some Dark Curses I don't think you mentioned any of them."

"Mhm, but that was before the summer."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Before the Dark Lord's return." Theo elaborated. "My father tutored me during the holidays. Sooner or later things will be more dangerous… and then there's also… well, you know…" Theo didn't need to finish the sentence for Harry to understand. 'And then there's also the fact that I'm expected to join the Death Eaters.'

"Right." Harry mumbled, feeling stupid. He really should have expected this.

"Tell me when you go training, okay?" A warm hand touched his shoulder. "My dad told me to keep practicing anyway."

"Right, will do." Harry yawned. "We better sleep now, it's already pretty late."

Lying in his own bed, tightly wrapped into warm blankets, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. He'd been looking forward to doing this with his friend. Besides that he was also a bit miffed that, despite his best efforts and the Black library at his disposal, he was still behind his Slytherin classmates when it came to the Dark Arts. If Theo had been tutored over the holidays then it was safe to assume that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and maybe even Blaise had been subjected to a similar training.

Harry sighed deeply. It seemed he was once again at a disadvantage.

…

The next day went by at snails pace. After their last class Harry and Theo excused themselves and disappeared into an empty classroom in the dungeons. Harry practiced the first few curses he had written down in his journal. Theo really knew all of them already, showed them to him and helped Harry out as good as he could – but it was obvious that Theo was terribly bored.

In the end they dueled and even though Harry had always been better at the practical side of their education, he had to admit that he was outclassed. Theo just knew when to dodge and when to shield, knew which shield to use for what curse – a point Harry had sourly neglected in his hurry to assemble as many Dark Curses as possible.

"You…" Harry wheezed. Merlin, was that whistling sound coming from his lungs?! "You…" He tried again. "You really got to show me the shield charms you used."

Theo offered his hand to Harry and helped him up, grinning. "I'll write them down for you. You definitely need them."

_Wheeeeeez…_

"What did you curse me with anyway?" Harry asked, for some reason his lungs felt really heavy and his head ached slightly.

_Pheeeeewww…._

"Hm… Oh!" Theo looked at him with big eyes. "I didn't know _that_ hit you." He pointed his wand at Harry once more and murmured yet another incantation. A light blue spell connected with Harry's chest and he felt better instantly.

"What the hell was that?"

Theo looked at some point behind Harry's left shoulder uncomfortably. "Lungcorrodingcurse."

"What?" Harry hissed furiously. "You used a curse that _corrodes lungs_? What the hell Theo?"

"_You _suggested we duel." Theo answered, chin lifted stubbornly. He was never one to take criticism well.

"Yeah, a duel between _friends_. I didn't think you'd try to kill me!" Harry responded, unnerved by his friends too calm demeanour.

"I didn't try to kill you, idiot." Theo grumbled under his breath. "I knew the counter curse to every spell I used. My father said-" And now he looked straight at Harry, eyes hard. "-that there is no use in training if we just shoot colourful sparks at each other. We have to develop an instinctual reaction to certain threats… to the colours and feelings of certain magics, and that can't happen if we don't use the real curses."

Putting it like that, Harry had to admit that it made sense. In a cruel and disturbing way.

"So your father also tried to curse you for real?"

"Of course. No kid's gloves." Theo answered proudly, but grimaced the next second. "You should've seen me after the first few times. Urgh… One time father cursed me with boils that brooded all kinds of insects. It's not really the most destructive curse, but it's a nice distraction. I certainly was more concentrated on the hatching flashy pink butterfly than on my opponent."

Harry grinned. "Well at least he got your favourite colour right."

"Oh shut up." Theo playfully hit him over the head. "Here I am confiding in you and all you do is make fun of me! I'll have you know that feeling a bloody butterfly crawl out of your very skin is anything but pleasant."

Harry only grinned even broader. "Scared of pink little butterflies now, are we?"

Theo harrumphed indignantly. "I'd like to see you keep your concentration with an actual insect crawling out of a boil on your wand hand."

"So what else did he curse you with?" Harry sniggered. "Unicorns and puffskeins?"

"Actually nearly everything was fair game." Theo answered earnestly. "Except for the Killing Curse of course. There's no counter curse to death, after all."

Silence descended on the room. Both looked down, uncomfortably reminded of the actual seriousness of their situation. Both had lost relatives in the last war – Harry his parents and Theo is mother and uncle.

No, there really was no counter to death, and with a new war brewing on the horizon Harry resolved to take his training more serious in the future.

Where before his forays into Dark Magic had been sparked by curiosity and the desire not to fall back behind the other Slytherins, it seemed learning to defend himself could soon turn into a necessity.

…

Soon Harry fell back into the comfortable routine of classes, homework and Dark Arts self study. Sometimes Theo would accompany him, though not too often. He got easily bored watching Harry practice curses he already knew and Harry hated feeling pressured to hurry up. The list with counter curses and the few shield charms Theo knew proved to be quite useful.

Belatedly Harry realized how stupid it had been to overlook the counter curses completely. He learned that the "counter curses" didn't really reverse the damage the first curse caused, but just stopped the infliction of even more harm.

The damage Theo had done to his lungs for instance was not reversed with Theo's counter curse, it had only prohibited further corrosion. Harry had had to take a healing potion later on to heal his lungs completely.

Never the less, it was definitely useful to know how to end one's suffering, under some circumstances even essential for survival – the suffocating curse representing only one of many such cases.

Soon it was time for their first Hogsmeade weekend. Harry went to buy new parchment and agreed to meet his friends at the Three Broomsticks afterwards.

He stood in the line in front of the cash desk bored out of his mind. The small shops were always overwhelmed by the masses of students that swamped their establishments on the few weekends Hogwarts opened its gates.

"Yes, Neville Longbottom… yes Granger – Hermione that is – said… secret meeting… Hog's Head in half an hour…"

Harry perked his ears up and eyed the girls in front of him attentively. One of them was definitely a Patil sister, the Ravenclaw, if he wasn't mistaken; the second was Sue Li, also in his year.

Li shook her head. "I don't know Padma… What if Umbridge finds out, my parents would kill me… My father's job is already on the line. I can't do anything to jeopardize that…"

"I understand." Patil assured her friend. "But you'll be okay if I go, won't you? I at least want to take a look. Parvati'll be there too."

"Sure, sure." Li answered, before changing the topic. "So Terry finally asked you out, didn't he?"

Parvati blushed beet red and mumbled something unintelligible. Harry didn't mind, he wasn't paying attention anymore anyway.

A secret meeting held by Longbottom and Granger, well if that didn't sound ominous. He cast a tempus charm. His friends were already at the Three Broomsticks', but he was kind of curious what the Golden Trio was up to…

Decision made Harry paid in a rush and took the way to the Hog's Head Inn. Annoyed he realized that his invisibility cloak was in his dorm at the bottom of his trunk. He really should start taking it along more often; right now it would've been be dead useful.

He entered the Hog's Head 20 minutes before the scheduled time. It was a dingy, dusty place, furnished with dark wood. The window glass was so greasy and encrusted with dirt that the daylight had no chance of breaking through – the only light in the room came from a few magical lamps and the odd candle sitting on the rough hewn tables. Most of the candles though were already burned down stubs.

It was not well patronized. Only one shady looking man sat at the bar, his pale fingers cramped around a glass of Firewhiskey, his face was hidden behind a black hood. Two other men occupied a table in the back of the room, both of their faces partly hidden behind shaggy beards.

Nobody looked up when he went in, not even the old barman who was polishing a dirty glass with an even dirtier cleaning rag.

At least it wouldn't be overly conspicuous if he kept his face obscured, Harry noted relieved and pulled his hood over his head. He took one of the other tables in the back of the room, as far away from the other customers as possible.

Ten minutes later the old barman finally decided to acknowledge Harry's presence and strode to his tables.

"Yes?" He asked wearily.

"Butterbeer please." For a second Harry had played with the thought of ordering Firewhiskey. He didn't think they would check his age in a place like this, but he also didn't want to risk being in a loud discussion with the waiter the moment the other students came in. Staying inconspicuous was his priority.

By the time his order arrived the first Hogwarts students trickled in. He sat with his back turned in their direction – another precaution to hide his identity – but a quick glance over his shoulder told him that while most of them were from his year, some older students had come as well.

Naturally all of his Gryffindor classmates were present. Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown and her ever so annoying voice as well as both Patil sisters were amongst the first to enter.

The rest were students from different houses – though no Slytherins, of course. Among others he recognised Susan Bones, Cho Chang and even Zacharias Smith, an arrogant Hufflepuff.

At last the Golden Trio entered. Longbottom took one look at the assembled students and his mouth fell open. His eyes darted back to the door, and for a moment Harry thought the boy would flee. Then Granger put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder, and Longbottom visible calmed. And shut his mouth, thankfully. Not daring to look any longer Harry turned back to his dusty bottle of butterbeer.

"Hi…" Granger's voice sounded nervous and high pitched. "We… uhm, that is I…" Harry had never heard the normally obnoxiously confident girl sound so insecure. It made him smile. "As you know we are meeting here because we think that our current Defence lessons are unacceptable. Under the given circumstances we think we should start training ourselves."

Many spoke out in agreement and Granger continued with a firmer voice.

"Umbridge's instructions are not only unacceptable because we need to practice for the O.W.L.s but also because-" She drew a big breath. "-because Lord V-Voldemort is back."

Now Harry regretted dearly that he didn't see them. One girl squeaked loudly, somebody else seemed to choke on his butterbeer.

"Where's the proof that You-Know-Who has returned?" Definitely Smith's voice, Harry decided.

A loud discussion concerning Longbottom's and Dumbledore's credibility ensued, until Weasley ended it rudely by telling them that everybody who didn't believe Longbottom should leave. The door stayed closed.

Then they started to discuss Longbottom's heroic acts, and Harry was surprised how little he had known about them.

"So it's true that you closed the Chamber of Secrets in your second year?" Some girl Harry couldn't identify asked excitedly.

"Well… in a way, not alone though. We-" Harry suspected he gestured to Granger and Weasley. "-found the responsible objec… uhm, person I mean, and Professor Dumbledore helped close the chamber."

"Oh…" Somebody sounded a bit disappointed.

"Yes, but he did rescue the Sorcerer's Stone from You-Know-Who in his first year, and all by himself!" A voice, probably belonging to Ginny Weasley, butted in.

"And not to forget the Triwizard Tournament. He fought against dragons, acromantulas and other monsters!"

The general mood turned in Longbottom's favour and soon they discussed the meeting place (which they couldn't come up with) and Granger promised to inform them as soon as they found one.

Harry left the Hog's Head a few minutes after the other students to make sure that he wouldn't run into them on the way back. He had to admit the idea was great. Training together would not only allow them to help each other and advance faster but also give them opportunities to duel. The longer he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Maybe he should introduce it to his fellow Slytherins. If the Gryffindors organised a Defence club, then so could they.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you liked it. For some reason this was the hardest chapter to write so far. Not a lot of action going on, but I will stick with J.K. Rowling's pattern in that regard - the school year is the build up to an "end of the year" adventure. <em>

_And do not fear, Harry is in no way a weak wizard. He just wasn't raised around or taught the Dark Arts, and that's bound to show - in the beginning. _

_Thanks for all the reviews, I really love hearing what you think of the story! On that note:_

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**

PS: Umbridge's beginning of the year speech is a quote from "Harry Potter and the Order of Pheonix".


	7. When Life Gives You Lemons

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven<p>

When Life Gives You Lemons...

Harry found the others still sitting in a corner of the Three Broomsticks. Theo was laughing loudly to some story Blaise just told, both their eyes were a bit glazed. He remembered Theo going on about spiking the butter beer with some stash Crabbe – or was it Goyle? – had smuggled into the school. Both of them were also sitting at their table, laughing throatily in a way that always reminded Harry of pig grunts. And of Dudley. Not that there was much of a difference, really.

Theo, sitting with his back to the wall, saw him first. "That queue really must've been epic." He greeted him, cheeks a bit flushed from the hot, stuffy air, laughing and alcohol.

"It was very long." Harry agreed, deciding to save his news for later. It was rather formidable blackmail info after all. No need spreading the word about the little illegal Gryffindor club around too soon.

"Epic long?" Blaise asked, voice raised. "You talking about my dick?"

Harry could only stare incredulously at this uncharacteristic behaviour – well uncharacteristic at least in a public place like this – while the other boys once again dissolved into a laughing fit, Theo panting "You wish." between breaths. Even Tracey and Daphne giggled, although the latter tried to look appropriately scandalized and soon started whispering to the other girl furiously.

Harry grabbed a free chair from the table next to them and sat down with a flourish. It was not everyday his friends allowed themselves to forget their proper pureblood upbringing so generously, he was definitely going to enjoy this.

He took a swig from the flask Crabbe passed him under the table, and nearly spit it out again. That tasted nothing like the high quality Firewhisky Blaise had shared with them last year.

"Bloody hell?!" He exclaimed the exact moment the others started laughing _again_.

"Your face…" Blaise sputtered. "You should've seen your face."

"Utterly brilliant." Theo agreed ignoring the betrayed look Harry sent his way.

"So you planned this, you wankers?"

"Of course not. What do you take us for?" Blaise asked sounding quite innocent. If it weren't for that big fat cheshire cat grin spread across his face so wide it must hurt, Harry would have considered believing him.

"That's what you get for standing us up." Theo smirked at him over the rim of his butterbeer mug.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Harry muttered and borrowed Theo's butterbeer without asking to wash that terrible still lingering taste out of his mouth.

"Too late." Theo sing-songed.

"The early bird catches the worm." Blaise nodded in agreement, face totally serious.

"That doesn't even make sense!" Harry didn't get an answer to that, as Theo had just noticed the absence of his butterbeer.

"Oi, get your own!" He snatched it back, beer swapping over the rim, leaving a wet trail from Harry's side of the table to his.

"Merlin." Harry sighed. "What was in that flask, anyway?"

All eyes flew to Goyle and who was grinning broadly. "Homemade schnaps from my cousin. He just started experimenting this summer, so it's not that refined yet."

"No kidding... Oh, where's Malfoy by the way?" he asked, because it was quite unusual to find Crabbe and Goyle in Hogsmeade without their beloved boss.

"Pansy dragged him to Madam Puddifoot's."

This time Harry laughed with them. The image of cool, cold, refined Draco Malfoy between pink cushions and heart shaped decorations certainly had its appeal.

When they left the Three Broomsticks a few hours later Harry was a bit tipsy himself. They met Malfoy and Parkinson on their way home, and while she rushed off to chatter excitedly with the other two girls, Malfoy only threw the boys an exasperated look, grabbed Goyle's flask and took a big gulp.

The following look on Malfoy's face was brilliant.

…

They stayed awake long on Saturday and spent most of Sunday sleeping, nursing their headaches and vowing to never drink, touch or even look at that vile stuff again.

Finally after their last class on Monday Harry persuaded Theo to take a walk to the Black Lake where he told him all about what he had overheard at the Hog's Head.

"So that's where you were! I was wondering. Nobody could take that long just to buy some parchment. So… what're you planning to do with this information?" Theo grinned wickedly, probably already coming up with a dozen ideas.

"I'm not sure yet… Nothing right now. I want to-"

"Nothing?" Theo interrupted him. "This is huge! With Umbridge here this could get them kicked out of school."

"Yeah, but I've a better idea."

"Better than seeing Granger's face when they tell her she's expelled?" Theo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry snorted. This plan had some merits… but he had different ideas. "Yes, yes, you're very brilliant. But you can bet that Dumbledore would find a way to allow them to stay."

Theo's face scrunched up.

"And anyway. As I said, my plan is better. I think we should make a similar club. If the Wonder Trio got one thing right, then it's that we're learning nothing in Umbridge's class. We have to take it in our own hands."

"That still doesn't answer why we can't use your information to give them a good scare." Theo sulked, but looked interested in Harry's idea as well.

"Because we need to save the information as leverage if they find out about our club. Mutually guarantied silence, so to speak."

"I have to admit that's probably more useful, if less fun. But you are right. Why haven't we thought of something like this before? To sink to borrowing ideas from Gryffindors…"

"Oh quit whining." Harry shoved Theo playfully, rolling his eyes. They sat down beneath an old and knotted weeping willow at the lakeside, discussing what to learn, whom to invite and even tried to come up with ideas for a name. About an hour later they tired of refreshing their warming charms every fifteen minutes and returned to the Slytherin common room, where they asked their dorm mates to follow them upstairs.

"What is it?" Draco Malfoy asked impatiently the moment he closed the door. "I was so close to kissing Pansy…"

"Kissing her cheek, sure." Blaise sniggered and Malfoy threw a pillow at him.

Harry cleared his throat loudly to get everybody's attention. "As all of you have probably realized, we don't really learn a lot in this years DADA."

"Understatement of the century." Blaise murmured from his bed.

"Exactly. So Theo and I thought that we could found some sort of Duelling Club where we practice the spells we should learn this year. We have to pass our O.W.L.s after all."

Malfoy, who had been on the brink of speaking up and probably defending Umbridge in the beginning, now had a thoughtful look on his face. Good grades had always been important to the pureblood, and nobody could deny that the O.W.L.s represented a crucial point in their education.

Harry continued. "Additionally we think that we should use this group to practice the more… _interesting_ branches of magic, and learn how to use them in a duel. We decided to introduce the idea to you first, and you can spread it to your friends. Only fifth years and up though, the others are too young and we don't want to get into trouble with Snape for teaching them Dark Magic."

"I like it." Blaise said.

"Yes, this actually sounds like a good idea. We could do with some practice." Malfoy agreed, Crabbe and Goyle nodding beside him.

"Great! Slytherins only, of course!" Theo added. "We'll talk again in about a week and discuss potential members. Make sure no untrustworthy people find out." He concluded, looking at every one of them seriously. "Umbridge can't hear about this."

They returned to the common room and Harry nearly hopped down the stairs. He couldn't help but feel giddy. If this worked out then he would finally get a chance to get on par with the other Slytherins and improve his duelling skills.

He and Theo had met a few more times ever since their – on Harry's side very painful – first meeting but constantly duelling the same person didn't offer much variety, neither in spells and curses nor fighting style.

…

The next morning at breakfast Harry very nearly suffered a heart attack. He was just about to bite into his buttered toast when something big and feathery landed on his plate.

"What the hell?" Theo yelped from besides him, eying the creature on the plate mistrustfully.

"No idea." Harry muttered and carefully prodded the animal with his butter knife. It seemed to be a post owl, if the parcel it had been carrying was anything to go by.

They had already garnered quite a lot of attention and Harry was just about to carefully pick the owl up – praying that it was too dazed to bite him – when a loud shout stopped his movement.

"Erol?!" Ron Weasley exclaimed from the other side of the room and immediately made his way to the Slytherin table. "What're you doing with our owl?" He shoved Harry out of the way, picked the owl up and stared at Harry accusingly.

"I? Nothing. It landed here."

"He's our family owl. Why would he come here?" Weasley asked eying them warily.

"It's probably too old to remember where it should go." Blaise sniggered.

"Is it still alive?" Tracey asked worriedly. "Maybe you should get it to Hagrid."

But Weasley didn't answer; he only stared at his owl and didn't move from Harry's place.

"You're free to leave anytime." Harry sneered, fed up to with being confronted with one of his least favourite people so early in the morning. Before breakfast.

A quick look at his owl feather decorated toast made it clear that he would have to prepare another one.

"Weasley I would like to get back to my breakfast. Could you move?"

"The owl was for you." Weasley said, stepping aside.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked confused. Why would the Weasley family owl be sent to him? Sirius had his own owl and nobody else wrote him.

"Here." Weasley threw the small packet in his direction. "It's my mum's writing."

"Your mum?" Now it was Harry's turn to stare at the small packing paper wrapped bundle. He opened it carefully, prepared to drop it immediately should it turn out to be a Weasley twin prank.

Inside was a small cardboard box filled with different wizarding sweets and what looked like homemade cookies. A small note lay on top of it.

_Dear Harry,  
><em>_I hope you are well. Sirius already misses you terribly. Again I want to invite you to join us for Christmas at Grimmauld Place.  
><em>_Enjoy the sweets and have a great day!  
><em>_Molly Weasley_

"Well, uhm. Tell your mother thanks." His eyes flew back to the note. "And that I'm well. Can you do that?" Harry tried to smile, but didn't really feel like it. Yes it was nice of Mrs Weasley to think of him, but Merlin, he could practically feel the other Slytherins' burning stares.

"Will do." Weasley mumbled, probably also too surprised to be his typical angry self. "I'll go… then." He added and quickly returned to the Gryffindor table.

Nobody asked any questions during breakfast, but he could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off Theo in waves.

"What was that?" His best friend hissed as they made their way to History of Magic.

Harry contemplated playing dumb but that would only make Theo angrier in the long run.

"Did I forget to mention that Mrs Weasley is taking pity on me because I'm a poor, lonely orphan?" He answered quietly.

"Yes, you forgot. Are you expecting presents from Longbottom's grandmother too, by any chance?" Harry ignored the jibe and waited for Theo's angry scowl to disappear. It didn't take long.

"The others are going to ask questions now." He groaned. "They probably think you're one of Longbottom's little sycophants. Being cosy with blood traitors like the Weasleys and all. I told you not to get involved with them in public."

"Involved in public? It's not my mistake that woman is an unbearable mother hen." Harry replied indignantly. He really hadn't done anything to encourage this, after all.

"I know, I know… I'm just worrying." Theo replied.

"I'll think of something to tell them. It's just sweets." Harry said stubbornly, closing the topic.

He could handle a few nasty comments from Malfoy. Yes the boy could be a snotty nuisance, but they got along well enough most of the time, that wouldn't change now.

And if some stupid upper years thought he had something to do with Longbottom… well he hardly ever interacted with them anyway.

Should it ever come to it he doubted that the Dark Lord would reject a fighter just because he had gotten sweets from Mrs Weasley at age 15.

…

Malfoy waited with his 'attack' until the evening, when most of their house was gathered in the common room.

"Potter!" He called, louder than was strictly necessary as they were both sitting with their fellow 5th years. Immediately all eyes locked on them, most of the Slytherins had probably been waiting for this.

"Yes Malfoy?" Harry replied, keeping his voice deliberately even.

"What's the deal with you and the Weasel King?"

Harry only raised his eyebrows at the blonde haired boy. He'd wait and see in what direction Malfoy would steer the conversation before he offered anything up.

"You know it is bad style to accept charity from the poor?" Malfoy continued mockingly.

"How dreadful of me. I apologize for insulting your noble sensibilities." Harry returned smilingly, hoping keep the conversation at light banter, but apparently Malfoy had different plans.

"Now honestly Potter. Why would you receive a packet from the Weasleys? I had no idea you were so close to them…"

Harry supressed the urge to grimace. He was in no way close to that loud, dirty, prejudiced, muggle-loving family.

"We aren't close, Malfoy." He replied shortly, trying not to sound angry.

"Sure looked like it today… Decided to try and follow your Gryffindor parents footsteps at last?" Malfoy smirked at him from his armchair next to the fireplace.

"Well…" Harry replied. "I can assure you it has nothing to do with following in my parents footsteps, but everything to do with them."

Now it was Malfoy who only raised one of his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's quite simple, really." Harry began the explanation he had concocted beforehand, knowing that it would be unwise to tell them the truth. None of them knew of Sirius' innocence after all.

"My parents were acquainted with the Weasley family, so from time to time Mrs Weasley sends me some sweets. Not that unusual, I'd say."

A few people sniggered and most returned to their conversations. Nothing was more boring than a simple explanation to a scandalous rumour. According to Blaise the most popular theory had been that he and Weasley were secret lovers and the parcel was a gift from the redhead himself. How their conversation could have ever been interpreted in that way was a mystery to Harry.

"I never saw you receive anything from them before."

Harry had no idea why Malfoy still tried to keep the conversation going. He'd had his fun and attention that should be enough.

"Their owl never collapsed on our table before. You probably simply didn't pay attention." Harry replied a little unfriendly.

Malfoy opened his mouth, but Theo was faster. "Are you going to tell us that you know of every packet anybody here received?"

"No. But he gets so few that I would notice." Malfoy replied stubbornly even though their audience wasn't listening to them anymore.

Blaise, who had been inspecting his fingernails for the last few minutes, smirked at Malfoy. "Give it up, Draco. You had your chance to convince us of their love affair."

"It's not about a stupid love affair." The blonde sputtered, clearly agitated. "It's about him-" He wildly gestured in Harry's direction. "-and his newfound love for Gryffindors. If that isn't suspicious, then I don't know what."

"For the love of Merlin. I don't even like the Weasleys. They just sent me some sweets because I'm an orphan and they knew my parents." Why wouldn't Malfoy leave it be?

Malfoy stood up angrily. "I saw you at King's Cross. I know there's more to it." He hissed in Harry's ear before he retreated to their dorm.

…

Harry yawned and tiredly rested his forehead on the comfortably cool page he had been reading a moment before. It was Saturday and Harry had spent the majority of his time in the library going through old 5th year books for DADA. The more he read the angrier he got. They could be learning so much this year.

Judging by these books the 5th grade should be the year they were introduced to the finer aspects of duelling. They should be learning minor offensive spells like the stunner and the shield charms to defend against them. Not spend all of their bloody time learning Slinkhart's thrice-damned book by heart… which reminded him that he still had to finish an essay for Umbridge.

Harry groaned and sat up straight again. He really had no time to waste; he wanted to start their DADA club as soon as possible.

Right now he was the only one to do all the research. Theo was panicking because his Arithmancy project turned out to be more complex than he had anticipated – not for the first time Harry was thankful not to have chosen that subject – and Blaise was wasting most of his time trying to impress a 6th year girl from their house. Draco Malfoy still gave him the evil eye for whatever reason.

An hour later Harry's stomach rumbled loudly and he decided to call it a day. Dinner would be served soon anyway. On his way out a loud whisper made him turn around.

"Potter! Harry!" Hermione Granger just returned a book to its place and hurried to close up to him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked once they'd left Mrs Pince sacred halls behind.

She seemed a bit startled by his unfriendly tone but caught herself swiftly. "I… well… I wanted to ask if you know any books that go in more detail about the Winter Solstice? Its origins preferably. Of course I've already looked in the library but there are just so many that seem useful at first glance and then turn out to be anything but. It's frustrating." She huffed and looked at him expectantly.

As it was Harry really knew of one book, but it was in the Forbidden Section – probably because it also described some rather cruel traditions more colourful than strictly necessary.

Harry decided to indulge her and they chatted all the way down to the Great Hall. He still despised the bossy in-your-face attitude she displayed in most classes, but he certainly wouldn't stand in her way if she wanted to practice the old tradition and learn more about the world she was now part of.

They parted ways in the Great Hall and Harry joined his mostly empty table. Only a few upper years were already seated. Soon the other students trickled in. Blaise entered with the blonde 6th year in tow, trying and failing to suppress a satisfied smile, while Theo looked more disgruntled than ever, going on about 'stupid foreign numerical systems' between bites.

…

The following week went by in a rush of lessons and homework and soon the next weekend approached. After dinner on Friday Harry parted ways with his friends and went to one of the unused dungeon classrooms to practice a new curse from his notebook.

_"Flagellum Ignis." _Harry intoned carefully, focusing on getting the sharp wand movements right. The tip of his wand glowed red. Slowly the light crept forward, always staying connected to the wand, until a fiery rope, no longer than Harry's arm, hung limply in the air. The fire whip was not as long as it could get, but for his first try the result was acceptable.

He lowered the whip until it touched the surface of one of the wooden tables, where it left a small scorch mark within seconds.

He tentatively tried to flick it and, to his embarrassment, cried out in surprise when small electrical flashes crackled over the deep orange surface of the rope as soon as it was in motion.

He crouched down to the floor, gripped his wand a bit tighter and stroke out in the direction of a chair in reach, concentrating on one of its legs. The whip shot out, but didn't meet its target. It sizzled uselessly in the empty air between the chair legs before it dropped down and once more hung motionlessly from his wand. Harry quickly raised his hand to avoid burning the floor.

He tried again, though this time he focused on the chair leg for several long seconds, trying to blind out the rest of the room, before he let his whip snap forward. When the rope met the wooden leg it automatically twined around it and immediately started to burn through the material.

_"Finite." _

The whip disappeared immediately, leaving burned wood and a broadly grinning Harry behind. He felt giddy with accomplishment. That was the first curse the managed on first try. Now if he could only conjure a longer rope…

He stayed till late in the night, working to elongate the whip inch by inch. Even though it was a tedious and monotonous work, Harry left with a good feeling.

This was one of the rarer curses he had found in the Black library. Chances were that none of the other Slytherins knew it, which would make it a worthy contribution for their Defence group. Once they finally got the damn thing started. Nearly two weeks had already passed since the initial conversation and he hadn't heard back from anybody. Maybe Theo had, but forgotten to mention it over his Arithmancy troubles. He'd ask tomorrow.

…

The next day was surprisingly sunny and warm, and he and Tracey spent most of it outside flying and doing some homework by the lake. The others opted to stay inside. Apparently Theo's Arithmancy books were too fragile to be taken outside.

When they returned to the common room before going to dinner Theo was alone in their dorm and Harry remembered to finally ask him about the Defence group.

"Have you heard anything back from Draco, Blaise or anybody else?" Harry asked. As he was doffing his winter cloak and scarf at the time, he didn't see the uncomfortable look that flittered across Theo's face for a moment.

When he didn't get an answer immediately Harry continued to talk. "Is that a no?" He finally turned around and stared at his terribly nervous looking friend.

"Something wrong, Theo?"

Theo looked to the floor, hands balled to fists. "You could say that." He sighed.

"Concerning the group?"

Theo nodded, which only served to confuse Harry more. They had not even started that group yet, how could something have gone wrong already?

"What is it?" He asked calmly, the other boy looked already uncomfortable enough.

"Uhm… well…" Theo took in a deep breath. "You see… I have actually heard back from the others."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Harry asked deliberately slowly, trying to understand why Theo was so nervous.

Theo looked up. "Yes, principally it's a good thing. It's just…"

"Oh come on, spit it out. Don't they want to do it?"

"No, that's not the problem either. It's just… It's… Well… Don't be angry with me, okay?" Theo looked straight at him with pleading expression. "I actually heard back from them two days after our discussion. Quite a few people were interested and on Saturday that same week was the first meeting."

Harry said nothing, a myriad of thoughts swirling through his brain. First meeting? While he had been researching at the library?

"They… well, naturally there are only Slytherins in the group. Most are older students and all of them have… well all of their families sympathize with the Dark Lord. After you got that package from the Weasleys they got a bit concerned. And then Malfoy spread some story about you having a teary farewell with the Weasley's and Longbottom's at King's Cross. Others confirmed that and faster then I could look they had decided that it would be too big of a risk to allow you into the group."

Theo talked in a rush now and looked at the floor again. Which was actually a good decision because Harry didn't think he could take Theo's pleading eyes right now.

"They don't want me in the group, a group _I_ suggested?" He spoke far too loudly and angrily, but he couldn't care less at the moment. "Just because I got some sweets? What the hell?"

"They want to practice some serious Dark Magic and think that you would rat them out to Dumbledore. Tell him what you overheard in their conversations, about well... the Dark Lord and their parents. At the moment we talk quite freely when we're alone." Theo hurried to say.

Suddenly a new thought came to Harry's mind, accompanied by a gut wrenching feeling of betrayal. "And why are you just telling me about this now? Only after I asked? Do you think waiting would make it any better? Or do you agree with them?"

Theo flinched. "No, no, of course not! You know that! I… tried to change their mind. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get angry unnecessarily."

"And, were you successful?" Harry asked coolly, fighting hard to contain his anger. Those damnable bastards. Taking _his_ idea.

"No…" Theo said quietly. "Some of them saw you talking to Granger and apparently that in combination with the rest is… well… they didn't like it."

"Unbelievable." Harry breathed. "Fucking unbelievable." All the research he had done in preperation for these meetings...

"I know… It's just… you never had anything to do with those Gryffindors before. And the timing is just suspicious, you can't deny that. It's not so far-fetched to assume that it has something to do with well… everything."

Harry said nothing because he knew everything he said now he would regret later. Theo was not the guilty party here, he reminded himself constantly, Theo was trying to change their mind. He really shouldn't lash out at him. But by Merlin, he wanted to. Those close-minded idiots. They'd known him for more than four years now and what, that was it?

"Look… I don't think it's anything personal… They still like you as a person. They just can't trust you at the moment. And not all of them think so."

"Trying to defend them?" Harry sneered, no longer able to hold himself back. He didn't want to hear any excuses, he was too angry to feign understanding for that traitorous lot.

"No, no, of course not. Just…"

"I'm going for a walk." Harry interrupted him and stood up.

"Harry, please, come on. I think they're just being stupid. I'm sure this will blow over soon enough. I'll talk to them again."

"Don't bother. Have fun at the next meeting."

He stomped out of the room and down the stairs ignoring the inquiring looks sent his way.

Merlin help him if he ran into Malfoy. That stupid, big-mouthed ferret. Teary farewell my arse! They had taken his idea and realised it without him. _His _idea. Without him these dim-witted idiots wouldn't even have that club! And now they would all learn to duel while he… he fought against stupid chairs in dusty classrooms.

Harry passed by the Great Hall. He really wasn't in the mood to eat right now. Especially while sitting on a table full of people who… what? Thought they were so important Dumbledore or Longbottom would recruit him to spy on them? How deluded could one get?

He didn't look where he was walking and suddenly slammed into an oncoming person. A pile of books clattered to the floor.

"Sorry." Harry mumbled and was just about to walk past when he caught a second glance of the person who had formerly been hidden behind her books.

Hermione Granger. Surrounded by old DADA books. Hermione Granger who also lead a Defence club. An illegal club he knew about. A small smile spread across Harry's face. Oh yes. It was so simple really. He wanted to duel. She had a duelling club.

"Potter? Are you all right? Potter? Harry!" She looked at him worriedly.

He didn't answer. Only knelt down slowly as if to help her gather her books and looked her straight in the eyes.

"I want to join your illegal Defence club." He whispered and watched with glee as her eyes widened in shock.

Harry smiled even brighter. Yes, this would work.

The Slytherins could all go fuck themselves.

* * *

><p><em>A big thank you to all the people who left me a review last time, I really appreciate them. <em>

_If you got a minute, please tell me what you think about this chapter or the story so far. About their characterizations, the dialogues, really just anything that comes to your mind._

_So... thanks for reading, and please review! _


	8. Make Lemonade

**_REWRITTEN: August 10th 2015_**

* * *

><p>Chapter 8<p>

Make Lemonade

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Granger said once she had overcome the initial shock.

"I'm sure you do," he said. "How about we take this conversation to an empty classroom?"

She looked ready to protest, but only swallowed heavily and followed him through a door nearby.

"So," she said, leaning against the closed door, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I know that you, Longbottom and Weasley founded a Defence Club. I want to be part of it."

She hesitated. "Let's say that – hypothetically speaking – such a club exists. Why would you want to spend time with a bunch of Gryffindors? During the holidays you weren't exactly eager to hang out with us."

"I like you just fine, otherwise I wouldn't have helped you with your research," Harry said. It wasn't exactly true that he liked her, but it probably wouldn't hurt to remind her that she was kind of in his debt. "And why I want to join? Well… Umbridge is useless. And I want to be able to defend myself. That's all there is to it."

She seemed torn. "How did you find out about it?"

"Hypothetically?" Harry grinned. He couldn't help it.

She rolled her eyes.

"Hypothetically I would have been sitting in the Hog's Head one day, enjoying a butterbeer, minding my own business, when a rather large group of students entered to discuss said Defence Club."

Her mouth dropped open. "You have known since then? Why didn't you…"

"Why didn't I rat you out?"

Her cheeks reddened a bit, but she stubbornly held his gaze.

"Because, as I said, I don't have anything against you. I wouldn't gain anything from getting you in trouble."

She looked at him sharply. "But if you could gain something?"

"I didn't mean that literally," he said. Of course he did. "I didn't say anything until now because I don't want to get you in trouble. We all know that Umbridge wouldn't like it. And I think it could benefit us both if I joined."

She looked at him warily, but then, suddenly, her expression cleared. As if she had come to some satisfying conclusion.

"Too true," she said. "If you join, you'll have to agree to the same conditions as everybody else. Alright?"

"Of course…"

"Then"- she opened her bag and took out a roll of parchment–"you have to sign this and agree not to speak a word of our group to anybody. Understood?"

Harry hesitated. His name on a list with all the other members... That was kind of incriminating, wasn't it? The Slytherins surely- His train of thought came to abrupt halt, and his temporarily forgotten anger back full force.

"I'll do it," he snapped, and snatched the parchment out of her hand. As he signed his name on the bottom of the list, he decisively ignored the headline, where "Dumbledore's Army" was written in bold letters. Their hero worship apparently knew no bounds.

.

When he returned to the Common Room that night, he was still angry, but able to keep it inside. They had their secrets, and he had his. The balance was restored, somewhat.

"Harry?" Theo said carefully as he slumped down next to him in an armchair near the fireplace. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said, forcing a smile. "Well, except that I still have to write the essay for Binns." He groaned.

"I'm already done," Theo said. "You wanna take a look?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend. It seemed Theo really was feeling guilty. "Sure."

.

The next morning on the way to breakfast Harry, Theo and Blaise walked past a large group of students gathered in the Entrance Hall. Members of all the houses were present, some students were whispering in small groups, others talking agitatedly, pointing at a large sign that was fixed to a wall.

"What's that about?" Harry asked.

"No idea." Theo yawned. "Way too early in the morning for a commotion like this."

"Hey Tracey!" Harry called. The girl was just elbowing her way out of the crowd. "What's going on?"

She walked towards them, a troubled look on her face. "There's a notice on the wall. From Umbridge," she added lowly. "Apparently there is a new Educational Decree, saying that all student organizations, clubs and whatever are disbanded and only Umbridge can give the permission to reform them."

Theo took a step closer to Harry. "I guess that means she too found out about the _you-know-what_," he whispered.

The Gryffindor Defence Club. "Guess so," Harry said, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.

"That means all the Quidditch teams are disbanded," Tracey went on. "How can she do that? What gives her the right?"

"She's with the Ministry," Blaise said darkly. "Means she can do whatever the hell she wants as long as the Minister is standing behind her."

"Yeah, no kidding," Harry said. "Just think of those dubious inspections. She is the worst teacher ever, but has the power to judge other teachers. Because Fudge says so."

"Urgh, yes… She was in our last Divination class. By the end of it, I really had to fight the urge to hit her over the head with that stupid clipboard of hers," Tracey said.

Theo laughed. "Didn't you want to hit her with her bag just last week?"

"With the flowery one, yes." Tracey shrugged. "The woman makes me so aggressive. But I'm hardly the only one."

"We should write the prophet. _Hogwarts High Inquisitor triggers wave of violence. _Now that's an article I would read," Blaise joked.

"Sadly though, the Prophet would never print it," Harry said, thinking of what he had observed over the summer. The others fell silent, a pensive look on their faces.

Even though they reached the Great Hall a bit late for breakfast, it was still buzzing with students. They were not seated and eating like usual, but running up and down, and even between the different House Tables. A few concerned looking Hufflepuffs – Harry recognised them as members of the DA – were walking towards the Gryffindor table, but thankfully came to their senses and turned around before they could draw untoward attention.

At the Slytherin table, Harry made a beeline for the lower end, where the Quidditch team was gathered around their captain.

"Potter," greeted Montague. "Heard the news already?"

"The Educational Decree?"

"Yeah. But don't worry. I already talked to her. Our team can continue as it was."

"Great!" Harry exclaimed relieved. "But don't think it ever really was about the Quidditch teams…"

"About that," Montague said, narrowing his eyes on Harry. "We can still trust on your discretion, can't we? Despite our recent… differences?"

Harry bristled. "Differences?"

"Yes. If you don't want them to affect your Quidditch position, don't let your mouth run away with you."

"Graham, we talked about this," Miles Bletchley, their Keeper, moaned.

"I just wanted to give Potter a proper warning," Montague replied, turning away from and apparently already dismissing Harry.

"Well," Harry said; he tried to keep his voice level, but it wasn't easy, not with the white-hot anger that burned in his stomach like lava, "then let me give you a warning too. I never even thought about going to Umbridge, because, no matter what you think, I'm no _snitch. _But if you ever threaten me again, then I won't hesitate to lead Umbridge right to you."

"Didn't you listen to me just now? The team-"

"I love Quidditch. I love winning for Slytherin. But don't for one fucking second think that you can use this to blackmail me."

Montague stared at him, angry and apparently also confused. "So you won't tell… just because?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, just because."

He snatched up a piece of toast, and returned to his friends. "Let's go. I don't want to stay here anymore."

Blaise and Theo exchanged worried glances as they accompanied him out of the hall.

"What did Montague say?" Theo asked carefully.

"That he'll kick me out of the team if I breathe a word about your _thing_."

"Merlin, Harry. I'm sorry, I don't know what got into-"

"Don't be," Harry said. "I told him if he ever tries blackmailing me again, I'll make sure that Umbridge finds out."

Theo stared at him.

"Of course, I wouldn't do it for real. Not to you." He looked between his friends. "But don't tell him that."

"Course not. Maybe when they see that you keep our secret, they'll come to their senses."

They fell silent as a group of first years rushed past them.

"No running in the corridors!" The portrait of an old wizard, with a long, braided beard shouted after them, one fist raised, the other clutching the book that had nearly fallen out of his lap.

"Why don't you use this situation to blackmail your way into our group?" Blaise asked when they were alone again.

"And alienate, possibly permanently, the most magically and politically powerful students in our house all at once?" Harry asked. "I'm not sure if that's such a bright idea."

"Yeah, so far all they have are suspicions and doubts," Blaise agreed.

They'd reached the Transfiguration classroom by now. Only moments after they had taken their seats, McGonagall swept into the class with a scowl on her face, and shut the door with a rather aggressive swipe of her wand.

"Who can tell me the incantation for the Vanishing Charm?"

A few students tentatively raised their hands.

"…pissed because Umbridge won't give the Gryffindor team permission…" Malfoy whispered to Goyle.

It seemed Harry wasn't the only one who had heard him, as McGonagall zeroed in on Malfoy immediately. "Mr Malfoy?"

"Evanesco," Malfoy answered, grinning smugly.

McGonagall though, was not through with him yet. "Your pronunciation is lacking. Try again."

"Evanesco," Malfoy repeated, drawing out the 'E'.

"No, wrong. Five points from Slytherin. Can someone help Mr Malfoy out?"

Not wanting to direct McGonagall's ire at themselves, all hands staid down. When the class was finally over – and Harry had managed to vanish the better half of his snail (for some reason the feelers and eyes just wouldn't disappear) – the students almost ran from the class. Harry had never seen McGonagall this irritated; Umbridge must really be getting to her.

"That bitch took fifteen points from us," Blaise said, as they walked down to the dungeons for Potions.

"Yeah, because Malfoy just couldn't keep his stupid trap shut," Harry said, the prospect of enduring another lesson of Potions not really helping his mood.

Snape at least, didn't seem influenced by Umbridge's Decree. Although, Harry mused, the Potions Master was supremely irritated at the best of times, maybe his mood simply could sink no further.

Potions was one of the few classes they shared with the Gryffindors, and on the way out Granger passed by him, bumping into his shoulder.

"Your pocket," she whispered, her face obscured by bushy hair. She hurried along, and a moment later had caught up with her friends and was talking to them as if nothing had happened.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Harry said, turning right just before the Great Hall. "Safe me a seat!"

He rushed into a cubicle, and fished the note out of his pocket. Granger's handwriting was as neat as expected, and very curvy. Kind of girly.

_Tomorrow. 7 pm. 3rd floor corridor. _

A quick _Incendio_ later a small pile of ash swirled down into the toilet, and Harry left the bathroom to join the others for lunch.

…

In the evening Harry shouldered his Firebolt – a present from Sirius he'd gotten in 3rd year – and went down to the Quidditch pitch. The sky was clear, for once, and the warm sun lifted his spirits.

"Harry, wait up!"

The Slytherin Keeper fell into step beside him. "I just wanted you to know," Miles said quietly, "that I don't agree with the decision to exclude you from the club."

"Thanks," Harry said. He had suspected as much at breakfast.

"And there are a few others in your corner too - mainly guys from the team, and Nott and Zabini, of course. The others don't really know you so…"

"They think I'll spy on them. It's ridiculous," Harry said bitterly.

"Yeah… Just give it some time. They'll come around."

"Sure hope so," Harry murmured. And until then he'd train with the Gryffindors. He wouldn't fall behind due to his own housemates' misplaced distrust.

He suddenly noticed a shiny new object in Miles' hand. "You got a new broom?"

"Yeah." Miles grinned as he lifted it off his shoulder and showed Harry. "Bought it this summer, the latest Cleansweep model. "

"Nice." Harry eyed it appreciatively. "How fast?"

"Zero to seventy in ten seconds and with built in vibration control. We'll flatten those damn Gryffindors, they won't stand a chance."

"If they are allowed to play, that is. I hear Umbridge is indecisive." Harry grumbled under his breath. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing. It was worrying that Umbridge had been able to seize control of Hogwarts so easily.

"I hope she stays indecisive until the last minute. Allows them to play but without the chance to train beforehand." Miles grinned wickedly.

Harry smirked back. "And with a bit of luck we could set a new record."

"Yeah, we'd go down in 'Hogwarts: A History'."

"The new edition would have a green cover in honour of our achievement."

"Less dreaming more training boys!" A loud voice interrupted them from behind and a moment later Graham Montague, Chaser and Captain of the Slytherin team, passed by.

Montague nodded at both of them in greeting, apparently deciding to ignore their earlier altercation... which was more than fine with Harry. He had enough stress in his daily life, he didn't need it on the pitch too.

He followed Miles into the locker room and quickly changed into his Quidditch uniform. When everybody was dressed their Captain stood and the room quieted down.

"Listen up everybody! Two weeks, two weeks until our first game! So far we've taken it pretty easy-"

"Easy? Were we at the same trainings?" Miles whispered but didn't dare look at Harry probably afraid of attracting his Captain's attention.

"- but those days are over now. We are at an advantage because we can train while the Gryffindors are forced to sit on their arses, and I want, I expect, I demand, damn it, that we make this advantage count! Two weeks people! Two weeks! This is my only year as your captain and I want that Quidditch cup to be mine."

"He does know that the cup will be in _Snape's_ office, right?" someone behind them whispered and a few players sniggered, though only until Montague threw them a stern look and signalled them to follow him outside.

When Harry pushed off the ground and soared through the air, he smiled an honest smile for the first time in days. The strong wind pushed against his body, tugged at his clothes and tried to steer him off his chosen direction, and for a moment, he allowed it and the wind tossed him right and left, up and down. He relinquished all responsibility and savoured the feeling of complete and utter freedom, a sensation he only ever found high up in the air.

…

Hidden under his invisibility cloak, Harry tiptoed up the Grand Staircase. He was nervous… no, more than that. What if they got caught? With Umbridge's new Decree this whole thing had just taken a turn for the serious. More serious than before. Had he made the wrong decision? Should he have waited for the Slytherins to come to their senses?

He shook his head. The Dark Lord had returned. The Ministry was unwilling to teach them. The Slytherins had betrayed him. A war was brewing on the horizon. No, he had to learn how to defend himself, and if signing his name on a list with Longbottom and Co. was what it took, then that's what he had to do. Or had already done, as was the case. He would not leave this school unprepared, that much he knew.

At the end of the third floor corridor was only one door. He'd come across it before, in his first year, when he'd followed Longbottom and his friends into the room with the Three-headed dog. He really hoped the dog had been relocated since then, because honestly, that was a reunion he could do without.

He looked around to make sure that he was still alone and took off his invisibility cloak. Only Theo, Blaise and Tracey knew of its existence and he planned to keep it that way.

The door was closed but opened easily. The room he entered was empty – or at least seemed that way up until the moment a person slipped out of their hiding spot behind a dusty sculpture.

Harry jumped back in alarm, but recognised the witch a moment later. "Bloody hell Granger! Don't do that to me," he said, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

She sniggered. "Did you close the door firmly?"

At Harry's nod she pointed her wand at it. _"Colloportus."_

The door shuddered and sealed itself with a squelching noise.

"It's usually locked like this. I guess they don't want students running around in unused parts of the castle. Not that they're trying very hard to keep us out, mind you," she said while pulling open the trap door situated in the middle of the room.

"We're the last ones. We try to never be exactly on time. Twenty-eight students coming here at the same time would be too noticeable. To be able to coordinate all of this better, we use fake Galleons." She handed Harry a golden coin, and he turned it in his hand fascinated. On first glance it looked just like any other Galleon.

"How?" he asked.

"Well, on real Galleons the number around the edge of the coin refer to its manufacturer, on our fake ones, the numbers will change according to the date of the next meeting.

"Brilliant," Harry said, honestly impressed. "Who came up with the idea?"

"Me." She smiled proudly. "It's a Protean Charm."

"I've never even heard of that one," Harry said, inspecting the Galleon in more detail. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought it was real.

A sense of relief filled him. This made him much more confident that he could follow through with this without getting caught. It was good to know that the other members took the secrecy of the club just as serious as he did. The fact that he had already learned of a new spell before he even attended his first meeting also put him in a more optimistic mood.

"Did you pocket it? Great. You can climb down first, I'll go second and close the door behind me," Granger said, turning her attention back to the trap door.

"How far down is it?" Harry asked, peering down into the hole that awaited him.

"Quite far actually. The ladder leads down to the dungeons."

Harry stared into the pitch-black nothingness, trying to make out, well… _anything._

"Come on, all the others are already there," she urged.

"Yeah, yeah," he said and carefully climbed down the narrow steps of the ladder.

Soon Granger followed, and when she closed the trap door, darkness enveloped them completely.

It felt like they were climbing down forever.

Step… after step… after step.

The further they descended the colder it got. Soon his fingers were clammy, and he was sure if there were any light he'd be able to see his breath. More than once he thought about getting out his wand and casting the Lumos charm, but in the end he decided against it. Climbing while holding his wand was probably a bad idea.

Finally his feet touched solid ground instead of another metal step. A quickly cast Lumos showed him that they were standing in a small chamber. The only ways to leave it were by either climbing up the ladder or by following a narrow path that led into darkness once again.

"You weren't kidding about the dungeons part, were you?" he asked, amazed that they had just climbed down the distance of four storeys on a ladder. In a way he was glad that he hadn't known beforehand just how far he could have fallen.

"Of course not." Hermione dispelled the ladder before casting the Wand-Lighting Charm herself.

She took the lead and he followed her down the dark passage. The air was noticeably damper down here, and as his hand brushed against cold stonewalls, his fingertips dipped into grooves created by water erosion.

"How did you find this place?" This had to be the place they had ended up after slipping past the guard dog in their first year, but he was curious about her own explanation never the less. Also, asking this question was probably expected.

"Oh you know," she said airily. "Neville and Ron always attract trouble. So one day when we were running away from Filch, we found this room. Once the boys saw the trapdoor, they had to find out what was hidden beneath it. That's all there is to it, not a very exciting story, I'm afraid."

He doubted her last statement severely.

The path ended in an equally dark chamber, the only difference was that now the ceiling was too high for the light of a simple Lumos spell to reach it.

It was unsettling not to know what was above him.

A heavy wooden door led into the next room. It looked just like the one before, only twice as big.

"There are five chambers like this. We use the last one. It's the best place we could find. I mean obviously it's not perfect, to get here takes way too long, but on the plus side: Nobody comes here by accident. It's pretty safe as long as we make sure that we don't get followed. That's the most important rule besides not talking about the DA by the way."

She turned to look at him seriously.

"When you come here _always_ make sure that nobody follows you. I don't think we could come up with another place to train if this one were discovered. Not to speak of all the other consequences…" she trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Harry nodded in agreement.

They passed through two more chambers without speaking another word. The environment didn't get any friendlier. Finally she stopped in front of yet another wooden door and turned around to face Harry.

"We're here. All the others are already inside. Don't expect a warm welcome, with you being a Slytherin and all…"

She grimaced; for a moment she looked as if she were sorry for him but the moment passed quickly and she turned back to the door.

_"Alohomora." _The door unlocked itself with a loud _klick_. The noise echoed in the large, empty chamber and made a shiver run down Harry's spine.

The moment Granger pressed the door handle down some sort of silencing charm seemed to break and a cacophony of different voices descended on them.

Harry stepped through the door and his mouth nearly dropped open. The room was big, easily the size of two classrooms and was lit by presumably about fifty torches. To the left side of the room was a narrow passageway, separated from the main chamber through three big archways.

A few members of the DA were sitting there on comfortable looking cushions, reading or talking, while most students were standing around in the main room. They had their wands drawn, but instead of facing each other, their gaze was directed upwards. Harry followed their line of sight.

The ceiling was unbelievably high, and Fred and George Weasley were flying on their brooms, circling each other up in the air. Both had their wands drawn. They raised them in mock attacks several times, swaying left and right on their brooms to avoid curses that never flew.

Harry watched for a few more seconds but nothing exciting happened. Just as he was about to turn away, a blue beam of light shot out of one twin's wand.

His aim held true, the jinx travelled incredibly fast and for a moment even the intended victim looked on flabbergasted. Then, not one second too early, he bent forward, making a somersault on his broom. The small crowd of onlookers cheered as the beam of light sped past him, almost but not quite touching him.

A moment later, instead of hitting the twin, the spell connected with the wall behind him, where several fist-sized stones broke out and fell to the ground.

Both twins somersaulted in the air once more, bathing in the attention. Not for long, though.

"I can't believe it!" Hermione Granger's voice could be heard very clearly and the cheering slowly subsided. Apparently she was well respected in this group.

"Do you want the whole room to come crashing down on us?" She glared at the debris on the ground, then back up at the twins. "I thought we agreed that we couldn't take that risk. Not until we found better protection charms for the walls."

"It's a magical castle Hermione," one twin started.

"And it's not like I used the Reductor Curse," the second one said.

"Yes, it was only a Knockback Jinx, nothing that could bring down the ceiling."

She didn't deign them with a response, only pointed an accusing finger at the hole in the wall.

"Hermione," Ron Weasley, who had been among the spectators, said, looking abashed for reasons Harry did not understand.

"And you!" She rounded in on him, forgetting the twins.

Apparently whatever he had done was even worse than attempting to bring down the ceiling. She had lowered her voice considerably, but Harry could still understand her. "You forgot all about the map, didn't you? It's important that someone keeps an eye on it at all times."

What map?

"I know… I just… And Fred and George…"

When no more details about the mysterious map followed Harry dismissed their conversation as uninteresting and turned back to the other students.

Most of them were staring at him, some bemused, others with varying degrees of hostility.

"So, um… welcome, I guess," said Neville Longbottom. It didn't sound very convincing, but he still held out his hand.

"Thanks for having me." Harry shook it.

It seemed he had passed some sort of test, because many of the students were now smiling tentatively. The hostile looks had disappeared.

Well, almost.

Once the others had returned to reading, chatting or firing hexes at each other, Ron Weasley took a step closer to Harry.

"I don't know what you want here," he said in a low voice, eyeing Harry mistrustfully. "And I don't know what you told Hermione to get in. But I haven't forgotten about this summer. You call her a mudblood again, and I'll make sure to throw you out myself."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Harry smiled pleasantly.

* * *

><p><em>Hope the changes are satisfactory. Yea? Nay?<em>


	9. Dog's Breakfast

_**REWRITTEN: August 10th 2015**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 9<p>

Dog's Breakfast

November arrived, bringing with it not only harsh winds and non-stop rain, but also piles upon piles of homework. When Harry wasn't busy writing essays, studying with his friends or braving the cold down on the Quidditch pitch, he was either meeting with the DA or secluding himself away in empty classrooms to work on the Dark curses in his little black book.

His friends were similarly busy, with their studies and the Slytherin Club meetings, and Harry couldn't help but feel a growing distance between them. Even if the others didn't know it, they now had separate groups they spent time with.

After the initial excitement had died down, Theo and Blaise had stopped telling him what was going on in their meetings, and of course Harry couldn't tell them anything about the DA (Granger had reluctantly admitted too hexing the parchment with some kind of secrecy charm).

"Alright, that's it for today!" His Captain's voice brought Harry out of his thoughts. The others looked relieved - some even had a smile on their blue lips – and sped towards the changing rooms. Harry though had different plans.

"I want to fly a little longer," he said, trying to calm his chattering teeth. They had trained for two hours, and Harry, just like his teammates, was freezing and wet, and fantasizing of hot showers and warm meals… But he still needed an alibi for the DA meeting he was about to attend.

"You're crazy," Miles said, descending more slowly than the other players. "Nobody in their right mind wants to stay out here."

Ice rain pelting against his face, Harry forced a smile. "Yeah, but I want to try a move I saw Krum perform last year. And now's a good a time as any."

Miles shook his head. "Whatever man. Just don't get sick, or Montague's gonna have your head."

Harry flew loops in the air, pretending to warm up for some spectacular move, until the others had finally disappeared in the distance. Then he sped towards Hogwarts, heading for a specific window on the third floor.

Of course the window was shut, and Harry spent several minutes hovering in the air in front of it, prying his stiff fingers off his broom in order to take his wand out of his inner pocket.

_"Alohomora."_

He landed right in front of the single door on the third floor, sighing in relief as the warmth of the castle enveloped him. He opened the trap door, but didn't conjure a ladder. Instead he nose-dived down the narrow shaft on his broom, enjoying the wind in his face, the thrill of speed… It was over too soon.

Shouldering his broom, Harry marched down the passage. He heard steps, two people walking not far ahead of him.

"…talked to my mum yesterday. She told me again to steer clear of Umbridge - what with her working for the Ministry and all. I really don't want to get my family in trouble." A girl was talking, her voice full of reproach.

"I understand, Marietta, I really do. My parents don't want me to get on her wrong side either… But..."

"Cedric," the first girl said flatly.

The other girl had to be Cho Chang then, Harry concluded, Cedric Diggory's ex-girlfriend.

Their talk reminded Harry of the first Hogsmeade weekend, and the conversation he had overheard back then. How one of the girls hadn't even wanted to attend the first meeting in the Hog's Head because her parents were employed by the Ministry.

"Potter? Is that you?"

Harry looked up. The girls had turned around and were waiting for him.

"Yes. Hi," he said. He hurried to catch up with them, and they walked the rest of the way together.

Like always, Harry enjoyed the practice, but felt underwhelmed by the spells they performed. He had become better at anticipating his opponents next steps, and was actually – if he said so himself – one of the most talented duellists in the DA.

This achievement motivated him. Not only to give his best in every duel, but also to keep practicing Dark Magic by himself – even if it could get a bit lonely at times. He could only imagine what he'd be able to do in a duel where all kinds of magic were fair game…

At a quarter to nine they vanished the cushions and extinguished the torches.

"Why is it that we don't practice more advanced stuff?" Harry asked Hermione on the way back to the trap door.

Today, once again, they had mainly concentrated on Stunners, Disarming Charms and the likes.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, more offensive magic, something that could be useful in a fight. I mean… you are preparing to defend yourself against Death Eaters, right?"

At that Longbottom, who was walking ahead of them, turned around.

"You said it right there. It's about _defending _ourselves, not about hurting others."

"You are aware that the other side won't have the same compunctions?"

"We learn spells to temporarily disable our opponents, to disarm them, to stun them; that's enough. We don't need more painful weapons," Longbottom argued back.

Harry didn't agree. A fight was also a show of power. If you could make your enemies fear you, you could win a duel before it even started. But simple Stunning and Disarming Spells wouldn't gain you any respect.

"Also," Longbottom said, more quietly, "I know what kind of books you read during the holidays, and that's just not the kind of magic we want to practice here. We are all still under age, some in fourth year or younger… I know our name might suggest otherwise, but it was only a joke. We're not trying to build an army. We just want to make sure everybody can survive, can defend themselves."

At that Harry couldn't help but think of his own housemates, who were probably practicing Dark curses to hurt or even permanently incapacitate as they spoke. In comparison, these people seemed woefully unprepared. He just didn't know yet if that was a good for him or not, if he would be fighting alongside or against them.

…

When he returned to the dorm room Harry was surprised to find Theo lying on his bed, reading a book. He should be at the Slytherin club meeting right now.

"Hey," said Harry as he knelt down besides his bed to store his Firebolt beneath it. Theo didn't answer.

"Something up?" Harry sat down on his bed and looked at his best friend. Theo had stopped reading and was scrutinizing Harry carefully.

A few seconds went by before he finally spoke, "Where were you?"

Harry gestured towards his Firebolt. "Out. Flying."

"Where?" Theo asked.

"Outside," Harry said slowly, wondering why Theo was looking at him so strangely. "Near the forest."

"Between forest and Quidditch pitch?"

The course of their conversation was starting to worry him. He'd used the flying excuse a few times as an explanation for his disappearances already, but never before had Theo asked about his whereabouts in detail. His insides twisted. He had a really bad feeling about this.

"Around there," he answered evasively.

"Really." Theo sat up and stretched his arms. "Want to know something funny?"

Harry pursed his lips. It sounded like a rhetorical question.

"No?" said Theo, eyes fixed on Harry. "Well let me tell you anyway. You know today there was supposed to be a meeting with the duelling club but the room we normally use was unavailable. When we came back here the guys said you were still out flying. So I grabbed my broom and went to join you."

Harry's stomach dropped. Shit. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Theo continued unperturbed, not taking his eyes off Harry for once.

"So I went outside, to the Quidditch pitch first, but to my surprise – no Harry there. I thought maybe you were closer by the forest and when I couldn't find you there, I went to the lake. But guess what? I couldn't find you anywhere. Funny, don't you think? Considering that you just came back from 'around there'."

"Theo-" Harry tried, but was cut off swiftly.

"Where were you really Harry? Today and every other evening you were gone?"

Theo's voice still sounded a bit off and Harry suspected that he was currently fluctuating between anger and worry. It would be easy to make up another lie and calm Theo down.

Harry looked at his friend, at the expression of hurt and betrayal in his eyes… He couldn't do it. This was his best friend. He cursed Granger and her stupid jinxed parchment, and his own rashness on top of that.

"I trust you, more than anyone else. But I simply _can't_ tell you.

Theo closed his book and sat up. "You can't tell me, or you don't want to?"

Harry sighed. "I literally can't."

"What do you mean 'you can't'? Is someone threatening you?"

Shaking his head, Harry wondered how to best explain the situation.

"I can't tell you because-" Harry paused, not sure how much he could say without triggering the jinx "-because I promised not to, and there are consequences for breaking this promise."

Vague as hell, but he couldn't to any better.

"You can't tell me because you promised? How honourable of you." Theo was getting angry. Definitely not what he intended.

"No, because there're magical consequences. Otherwise I'd tell you in a heartbeat, you know that." Harry tried to pacify his friend.

"Magical consequences? What the fuck?" Theo's eyes had widened in shock. "Why would- whom did you make that kind of promise to?"

Harry buried his face in his hands. Not for the first time he wished he knew more details about the jinx. He didn't think he could answer Theo's question without consequences.

"I can't tell," Harry repeated. He thought hard, trying to figure out how much he could reveal. Then he realised it. A slow smile spread across Harry's face.

"But I don't have to tell you Theo, because you already know. I already told you!"

"What?" Theo wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "I thought you couldn't tell."

"Yeah now I can't, but I told you before I made that promise. Think Theo. I told you right after the Hogsmeade weekend."

Harry grinned. He really should have thought of this earlier. It was so simple!

"Are you trying to tell me that this has something to do with Longbottom's Defence Club?"

The venom in Theo's voice caught Harry by surprise.

"Are you trying to tell me you are a member of that club?"

Perplexed Harry nodded. "I-, yes, I-"

Theo laughed hollowly. "Merlin. Draco was right. All of them were right. And here I was, trying to convince them otherwise, telling them that they were wrong about you, when in reality, they were right all along."

"They weren't right all along. I didn't join them because I wanted to-"

"Oh, so they made you join them? Excuse me if I find that hard to believe," Theo sneered.

Harry stood up. He was not about to let Theo walk all over him.

"No, they didn't make me join, our own housemates did when they kicked me out of the Slytherin club before it even started! I've got to learn how to duel, I was backed into a corner and I came up with a solution. I'm not sorry for that."

Theo only shook his head. "I can't believe you did that. I warned you. I went against my father's direct orders to warn you." Theo had left his bed and was pacing up and down the room, agitated.

"Exactly! You told me how serious the situation already was. You told me that the Dark Lord is already preparing for a war. What was I supposed to do?" Harry had raised his voice. This, this was just unfair. Theo had no right to judge him.

"Keep your bloody head down, that's what you were supposed to do!" Theo spat furiously. "All I ever told you was to make sure not to stand out. But it's like you want to get noticed. Is that it? Is this about your parents? Do you hope that a few lessons with Longbottom will help you avenge them?"

Harry stared at his friend open mouthed, too shocked to formulate a response.

"Well I've got news for you Harry. This is the bloody Dark Lord we're talking about, and unless Longbottom has a secret recipe for defeating Dark Lords hidden up his sleeve, you won't stand a chance!" Theo nearly shouted the last sentence; his face had taken on an angry shade of red.

"Did you just drag my parents into this?" Harry's voice was shaking with rage. "I told you that I make my own decisions. I told you that I won't let the past determine my future. But you don't believe me, do you? You don't believe me because you're unable to do the same. I see the way you look at Susan Bones. Like you blame her-"

"Her uncle killed my mother!"

"And Death Eaters killed her family in return!"

"Yes, poor Susan Bones and her poor poor family. They're all saints aren't they? As opposed to my mother who got what she deserved. She had to be a murdering bitch, she was a Nott after all."

"Oh don't be such a bloody moron. That's not what I think and you know it!"

"Yeah right. Up until an hour ago I also thought I knew you wouldn't run off to Longbottom the moment things got a bit complicated."

"I didn't run off. I had a problem and this was the only solution I could come up with."

"You should've come to me," Theo said. "I even offered to duel with you! There was no need for you to go to Neville freaking Longbottom."

"Oh please Theo! You were bored out of your mind every time we trained. And the duelling? After two sessions we could predict each other's moves perfectly! We know each other too well. If I want to get better I have to duel against different people. And that's what Longbottom offers."

"So it's about who offers you more?" Theo looked at him with a stony expression. "Well, I hope you're happy with Longbottom. Don't come crawling back to me when they screw you over."

Theo turned around and walked to the door. He stood there for a moment, back turned to Harry, his hand already resting on the door handle.

"They will, you know. Screw you over, that is. You set yourself up as the perfect scapegoat."

Theo didn't slam the door when he left. He closed it quietly, which disturbed Harry more than the expected show of anger.

Harry slumped onto his bed, feeling more exhausted now than he had after and hour of duelling.

He had no idea what Theo was going to do now. He'd hardly ever seen his friend this angry. Would he tell the others?

Harry brought his fist down hard onto his bed repeatedly, but punching the soft mattress didn't give him any satisfaction.

Theo had been gone for a few minutes by now, maybe he'd already told the others. Harry could imagine it vividly. Theo's heated face, his outraged expression. Malfoy's superior I-told-you-so smirk.

Normally he'd feel ridiculous for even considering that Theo would tell on him, but they'd never fought before, not like this.

Shit.

…

"What's going on with you two?" Blaise whispered, as they were on the way to the Great Hall for dinner the next evening.

"I don't know what you mean," Harry answered lightly.

"Oh please. Like I would believe that." Blaise rolled is eyes. "You and Theo have been avoiding each other all day. Didn't speak a single word. That hasn't happened since… well, ever."

"We had a fight. We'll get over it," said Harry firmly, trying to convince not only Blaise but also himself of the truth of his statement.

In reality, he didn't really know where he stood with Theo.

When he awoke this morning and didn't find himself a pariah in Slytherin house, he knew that Theo at least hadn't shared the news, but nothing more. Theo didn't take his usual seat beside him in classes, didn't talk to him during the breaks, in fact hadn't even once looked at him all day.

On one hand Harry just wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted to go to Theo, apologize for keeping the DA a secret for so long and assure him that he would never attend another meeting if that was what it took to mend their friendship.

He wouldn't do that, though. Because on the other hand Theo had completely overreacted, had no right to be this angry with Harry for taking things in his own hands, and had not yet apologized for dragging Harry's parents into the mess.

Theo was the only person Harry ever talked to about his parents, he should have known better.

In an effort to shut his brain up he stuffed a spoon full of meat pie into his mouth without a second thought and nearly yowled in pain a moment later. The stuffing was boiling hot. Angrily Harry left the table.

"Hey, where are going?" Blaise called after him.

"Out," said Harry without looking back. He hurried downstairs, went past the Slytherin common room and only stopped once he'd reached an abandoned classroom off the usual tracks.

_"Flagellum,"_ Harry spat and a huge fire whip darted from his wand.

He stayed in the room until it was close to curfew, casting the same curses over and over again, trying to get rid of his anger. By the end of it, his casting had improved visibly. He retired to his bed exhausted but satisfied.

...

Two days passed without much changing. Theo went out of his way to avoid Harry and Harry didn't seek his friend out either. Their fight affected him more then he liked to admit, but he refused to give in. Theo was the one who had initiated this stupid silent treatment, so it was Theo who should come to him if he wanted it to stop.

The other Slytherins had of course realised that something was up, but were considerate enough not to badger them with questions. All but one, that is.

"Hey Harry." Daphne fell into step with him. "Quidditch training?" she said, scrunching up her nose as she looked at Harry's rain drenched uniform. It had been pouring down all morning.

"Yeah. Last one before the match."

"Why do you even train? Weasley's their Keeper, it's not like you can lose."

Harry chuckled. "Better safe than sorry. Just imagine if we lost to Weasley."

"That'd be painful," Daphne agreed. "So… Theo told us why you're fighting."

Harry stomach dropped. Then he remembered whom he was talking to. If he had to choose one word to describe Daphne, cunning would be on the forefront of his mind. Closely followed by nosy.

"He did?" Harry said, testing the waters.

"Yes," she said. "Told us everything. Doesn't make you look too good."

"So what do you want from me then?" Harry asked. He doubted she was telling the truth. Theo wouldn't do that to him. In a fit of anger he might have told, but days after the event? Not likely.

"I don't believe it's entirely your fault. There are always two sides to a fight."

"You don't believe what happened is my fault?"

"So far I only know Theo's side, but I'm sure he's just as much to blame as you are, if not more. I always liked you."

Theo to blame that Harry had joined the DA?

Harry laughed out loud. "Does this ever work for you?"

Daphne smiled innocently. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh come on, Daphne. We both know Theo didn't say a thing."

"Well, damn. It was worth a try though. You two are annoyingly secretive," she grumbled.

"So this, um, 'strategy' of yours, does it ever work?" Harry asked again, his lips still twitching.

"Sure does."

"Really?"

"Sometimes," she conceded.

"With Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Don't be an idiot. I wouldn't need a strategy to get Crabbe and Goyle to spill their guts."

"Probably," Harry agreed. When the common room came into view Daphne tried again.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk? I'm a very good listener."

"And an even better gossiper. I'll have to pass on that one."

Sometimes that girl was unbelievable. He'd just caught her in a lie and she didn't care at all. No shame.

She pouted. "You wound me."

"I'm sure," Harry replied drily.

He headed up the stairs to the dorm room to retrieve his Transfiguration books. The course load McGonagall piled on them had tripled this year. Apparently 'preparation for the O.W.L.s' gave all their teachers an excuse to bury them neck-deep in work.

Harry deposited his things on the only free desk in the library and headed for the Transfiguration shelves. He needed additional books for this homework. When he returned to his workplace, another person was sitting there too. Harry took the free seat opposite the girl.

"Hey," he whispered in greeting.

Padma Patil looked up, eying the books he was carrying. "Hi. Transfiguration?"

Harry nodded. They worked alongside each other silently. On Harry's side the pile of discarded books grew fast; not one held the information he needed. After some time Padma pushed a thick, leather-bound tome towards him.

"The last paragraph," she said, her red-varnished nail tapping on left page of the open book.

Harry skimmed the text. It was very useful indeed.

"Thanks," he said. She was a member of the DA, but he hadn't talked to her before.

She smiled.

Harry tried to return to his work, but he couldn't get Padma's smile out of his head. More than once he caught himself staring.

Her dark hair was tied back securely in a braided plait, but a few strands of hair had fallen out. She played with them while she worked, twirling them between manicured fingers. She had a habit of furrowing her brows and chewing at the end of her quill while she read through, what Harry suspected were, especially complicated sections.

After two hours Harry had to admit that he wouldn't get done much today. When his thoughts didn't stray to Padma, they circled around Theo, or wandered to the upcoming Quidditch match against Gryffindor.

He tried for another hour and only gave up when dinnertime approached. He packed his things; Padma did the same.

"Was the book helpful?" Padma asked once they'd left the library behind.

"Yes, thanks. Far more than any other I found."

"Tell me about it. I went through hundreds of them yesterday. You'd think McGonagall would give us at least some clue where to look."

"I bet she takes pleasure from making things as complicated as possible. '_Serious application_' and all that rot," Harry agreed.

"Oh did she give you that speech too?" Padma grinned. "'_You cannot pass an O.W.L. without serious application, practice and study,'"_she repeated McGonagall's start of the term speech.

"That was a frighteningly good imitation." Harry's mood had already brightened.

She laughed. It was a warm, friendly sound.

"Will you be watching the game tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss seeing you win. Just don't tell Parvati. She thinks it's my sisterly duty to route for Gryffindor."

"I'd never," Harry said, giving her his best 'I'm trustful'-expression, big eyes and all.

She sniggered.

"So you think we'll win?" he added, satisfied by how assured she'd sounded.

"Of course. You're a brilliant flyer." There was that smile again.

"Thanks." Harry had the feeling he should say something more, but the right words just wouldn't come to him.

"I've got to head up to the common room before dinner," Padma said, gesturing towards her book bag. She tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good luck tomorrow, even if you don't need it."

"Thanks," Harry repeated, feeling increasingly stupid as watched her disappear behind the next corner. Where were his conversational skills when he needed them?

…

During dinner Harry watched her from his place at the table. She was sitting with the other Ravenclaws, talking to her friends, wildly gesticulating with both hands. He'd love to know what she was saying.

"Everything all right, Harry?" Blaise asked from across the table.

"What? Yes, yes. Why?" Harry said, taking his eyes off Padma.

Blaise smirked. "You were grinning like a loon."

"Oh? Well, the-" Harry looked down at his plate "-the chicken is really good today. Makes me happy."

"The chicken makes you happy?" Blaise repeated, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Sure."

…

The tension was palpable in the changing room, and especially visible in the members of the Slyhterin club. Harry felt Montague's eyes on him, saw the muscles in his jaw twitch whenever he met his stare, and knew the Captain must be itching to give him a piece of his mind.

"Potter, a word."

He really should have taken Divination, he was a natural, Harry thought as he followed Montague into the Captain's office.

"Close the door," Montague said, and then, face screwed up into an expression of distaste, "please."

Harry tried not to smirk, he could hardly believe it, but Montague actually seemed _nervous. _

"Listen Potter, I'm not trying to threaten or blackmail you but... I- There are rumours concerning you, as I'm sure you're aware, about you fraternising with Longbottom and his posse."

_Fraternising?! _

"Just… no matter our differences, you're still a member of Slytherin. If we win, you win. If the Gryffindors win, sure they'll be thankful to you for a time, but… in the end its one house against another, unrelated stuff just shouldn't be brought into it."

Harry didn't know whether to be insulted or amused. They actually thought he'd lose the game on purpose? Out of some misguided – and fucking inexistent – loyalty to Longbottom?

He sighed, supremely irritated but also resigned. "I told you once, and I'll tell you again, I'm not a snitch or traitor or whatever, I don't _fraternise_ with Longbottom. I'll do my best to win this game. Not because of your abysmal attempt to persuade me, but because I'm a Slytherin and I want my house to win."

When they returned to the changing room, the others were calmer, probably thinking Montague had threatened him into submission.

If he didn't want to win the cup so badly, he'd consider losing the game on purpose, just to make a point.

Not ten minutes later, Montague lead them out onto the pitch, and even as the Captains shook hands, the crowd was already going wild.

"WEASLEY IS OUR KING…"

Resounded from the Slytherin stands, a multitude of voices rolling out their battle song.

A chill of excitement ran down Harry's spine. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears, almost drowning out the noise, felt his heart beating in time with it.

Harry pushed off the ground, leaving behind anger and irritation. It just wasn't important, not now. He circled the pitch looking for the Snitch, but was in no hurry to catch it. Weasley made it easy for his teammates to score. The Slytherins were already leading.

"HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN…"

He didn't like to admit it but the song had been a brilliant idea on Malfoy's part. The louder the crowd sang and shouted, the worse Weasley played.

"WEASLEY IS OUR KING."

Suddenly Ginny Weasley dived, her red hair blowing in the wind like a scarlet Gryffindor banner. Harry followed. He'd kept close to the youngest Weasley for the better part of the game. She was more motivated to make a quick catch, and he couldn't allow that.

The ground was approaching rapidly. Harry tried to look past her, but her hair was obscuring his vision. He urged his broom to fly faster – he should have been more attentive before, damn it – and soon his Firebolt caught up with her slower broom. Only there was no Snitch. She'd tricked him.

The moment he drew level with her she pulled upwards and Harry sped up as well. He scored the field looking for the Snitch. Then he saw it, a quick blink of gold reflecting the sunlight, right next to Montague's arm. Harry flattened on his broom and sped across the pitch.

"Angelina has the Quaffle. Pass to Alicia…"

Harry heard robes fluttering in the wind behind him. Ginny was chasing after him. He was closer now, nearly there… suddenly a Bludger appeared out of nowhere and Harry swayed to the right. A pained cry told him that his pursuer hadn't been quick enough.

He was on the other side of the field now and tried to locate the Snitch again. He scrutinized Montague carefully. Maybe it was hiding behind him?

The sun broke through the sky once more and Harry saw the golden reflection again. Only this time he realised that it wasn't the Snitch but Montague's watchstrap. He groaned in frustration. Well it hadn't been completely for nothing. Ginny Weasley was injured now, which would hopefully work in his favour.

"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN…"

He was close to the Slytherin stands, and the noise was deafening. His friends were waving at him, shouting at the top of their lungs. Even Theo.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw something golden again. He turned in its direction and this time it really was the Snitch, in all its golden, fluttery glory. Ginny Weasley was closer, but she hadn't caught sight of it yet.

Harry dived, hoping that his sudden action would gain him a moment of surprise with Ginny. He was close, only a few more seconds-

A shoulder bumped into his. Ginny Weasley was beside him; they were flying head to head. Harry stretched his arm out, Ginny did the same. He needed to be faster, only a little bit faster; they were both so close now. Harry pushed to the right, trying to get Ginny off course. It only worked for a split second before she started pushing back, but it was enough. Harry's fingers closed around the golden winged ball.

He raised his arm and Madam Hooch blew the final whistle. Cheers erupted among the Slytherin supporters and took the noise to an even higher level, something Harry hadn't thought possible.

As soon as he landed he was surrounded by his teammates.

"Good job." Montague gave him a pat on the shoulder that made Harry's knees, still a bit stiff from flying, give in. "Knew I could count on you."

Miles, standing next to the Captain, rolled his eyes, sharing a grin with Harry.

"Yeah, bloody amazing." Blaise approached, followed by a few other Slytherins, Theo among them.

Theo looked from the Snitch in Harry's hand to the 'Weasley is our King" badge pinned on his chest, then up to his face.

He smiled timidly. "Well done."

"Thanks." Harry nodded and allowed the crowed to push him towards the castle.

The victory party in the common room was exuberant. A wireless was blaring an odd mix of Celestina Warbeck's and The Weird Sisters' hits at full volume, the snitch was fluttering through the room, its wings ruffled because everybody tried to catch it at least once, and students got drunk from the Firewhisky and Butterbeer.

Harry felt better than he had in days. One of the prettiest girls in his year was (possibly) interested in him, he'd caught the snitch, which interestingly enough seemed to lead quite a few Slytherins to question their doubts concerning him, and Theo didn't avoid him like the plague anymore.

All in all, he couldn't complain.

…

Not twenty-four hours later, his week should get even better. It was evening, and Harry was sitting in an armchair in the common room, working on his essay about the Strengthening Solution, when Theo approached him.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure," Harry said and stood up.

He followed Theo upstairs to their empty dorm room, and shut the door firmly behind him.

They sat down on their respective beds and stared at each other. After a while Theo spoke.

"I'm sorry. I- I overreacted. I thought about it, and, well, I understand where you're coming from. I'm not saying I approve – I still think it's an incredibly stupid idea – but I understand, you want to be prepared. I just wish it hadn't been Longbottom. Or that you would've told me about it from the beginning."

Harry looked down at his hands, rubbing them uneasily. "I know. And I wish it hadn't been Longbottom either. But there are only so many illegal duelling clubs at Hogwarts, and I refuse to leave this school unable to safe myself should it ever come to it. I should have thought of a way to tell you sooner, though."

"Yes you should have," Theo said sharply.

"And I'm sorry for bringing up the Bones," Harry added.

"I know," Theo said.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"You had no right to drag my parents into that conversation," Harry said.

Theo nodded. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry for that too. It just, it made sense at the time."

"I'd have expected that from anybody, just not you. You-" Harry faltered. "You're the one person that should know better. You know that I'm not my parents, that I don't believe in the same values they did. We talked about this."

"Yes we talked about this, but that was before _His_ return. Can you honestly tell me that you don't feel different about it now? They were your parents Harry, and they died because they opposed the Dark Lord. And now _He_ is back and things change."

"I know," Harry whispered. He wasn't sure yet how much the Dark Lord's return changed for him. He thought about it as little as possible. He didn't dare contemplate joining the Dark Lord, not even inside the safety of his own mind, because the idea of disappointing his parents so fundamentally made him sick. But to only play a secondary role in his own life, to let it be ruled by his dead parents' values… that thought didn't make him feel any better.

"I don't know what I'll do," Harry said finally. "I know too little about the Dark Lord and his goals. I won't join a madman bent on wiping out all muggles-"

"He doesn't-" Theo started but Harry silenced him with a look.

"-but I also won't spend my life trying to live up to imaginary expectations my dead parents might or might not have had."

"He doesn't want to kill all the muggles," Theo said.

"How would you know that?" Harry asked. "He certainly killed lots of them in the last war."

"Yeah, but for strategic purposes. And I know because my dad-" Theo lowered his voice "-joined him. And my dad isn't perfect but I can't believe that he would help kill off a whole species."

Harry lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling. "Do you think you could ask your dad? About _His_ goals? About what _He_ really wants?"

"I can try," said Theo quietly. "He never liked talking about any of it though."

"But now _He_ is back and things change," Harry repeated Theo's earlier words softly.

* * *

><p><em>Opinions? <em>


	10. White Christmas

_So... It's been quite a few months since my last update. I have to admit, I wrote myself into a corner with the Draco plot line, and while I knew how I wanted to resolve the problem, I more and more felt like I was writing an episode of Gossip Girl, instead of a Harry Potter fanfic. So I purged it. Which is why all **readers who read this story before August 10th 2015 should reread Chapters 8 and 9. There are MAJOR** **differences**** (yeah, capital letters, people).**_

_I repeat: You read this story before August 10th 2015? You want to understand what's going on? _

**REREAD CHAPTERS EIGHT AND NINE**

_And now, without further ado:_

* * *

><p>Chapter 10<p>

White Christmas

"Shit, I think I forgot- Oh, here it is!" Tracey grinned, holding up her History of Magic essay triumphantly.

"If you were more organised in the first place, you'd save yourself a lot of unnecessary trouble," said Theo, scrutinising the wrinkled piece of parchment with furrowed brows. Clearly, he disapproved.

"You're too sweet." Tracey linked her arm with Theo's, ignoring his suffering look. "But what would you complain about then? I can't take that from you."

"I'm not that bad! Just organised." Theo looked affronted.

"Oh yes, when it comes to school work you are." Harry laughed, and turned to Blaise. "Remember the one time he completely flipped because- What's going on here?'"

They had turned around the next corner and found their path obstructed by a crowd of suspiciously silent students. Curious, Harry and his friends pushed forward until they had a clear view of the object of fascination.

It was Umbridge and Dumbledore.

She was clearly furious – hands against her hips, her face almost the colour of her pink robes - while the Dumbledore regarded her with a serene expression.

"…where they are!" Umbridge's shrill voice rang through the corridor; out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw a suit of armour putting its iron hands over non-existent ears. Theo snorted, amused.

"As I already said," Dumbledore replied very slowly, as if talking to a child. "Mr Arthur Weasley was injured and is currently at St. Mungo's. His children left a day early to visit their father."

Umbridge looked comically short next to the imposing figure of the headmaster, but that didn't stop her from raising a stubby finger at him. "And you didn't think to consult me about this beforehand? I am the High Inquisitor!"

"Quite right, Dolores, your are. But I am the Headmaster, and it is fully within my power to excuse students from attending classes, especially so when there is an emergency in their immediate family." Dumbledore looked down at Umbridge over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

Umbridge stared right back. "Well," she said sweetly, "we will have to see about that, won't we?"

She turned, smoothed down her robes, and walked towards the Defence Classroom, the staccato of her heeled shoes echoing in the silence of the corridor.

As they continued to the History of Magic classroom, Harry and Theo fell behind the others.

"So Weasley was injured," Theo said, tonelessly.

Harry caught his eye, and knew they were thinking the same thing. Had Weasley been hurt in a fight? Maybe in a duel between Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix? And if so, had there been injuries on the other side too?

The worry in Theo's face was all too clear. Harry laid a calming hand on his friend's shoulder. "I don't think your father is injured-"

"I wouldn't know, would I? I'm not one of Dumbledore's pet Gryffindors," Theo said bitterly.

"Yeah, but your father is friends with Lucius Malfoy, right? And there are other children of _you-know-whats_ at Hogwarts too." Harry had lowered his voice, just in case. "So if there were anything to worry about, you'd know."

Theo exhaled deeply. "Let's hope." He didn't seem entirely convinced, but some of the tension visibly left him.

…

"You're going home for the holidays?"

Harry, who was lying flat on his stomach, trying to get his favourite pair of trainers out from under the bed, turned to see Blaise standing in the doorway, eying his open trunk incredulously.

"Yeah. Missing the muggles more than usual."

"Right… So, where're you really going?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. He could give Blaise the same explanation he'd given to everybody else: His uncle was sick and his aunt had asked him to come home for the holidays. (The Weasley family had been a great source of inspiration here.)

But… Blaise knew him well enough to see through this lie. He'd never voluntarily return to Privet Drive – sick uncle or not. He hadn't told anyone but Theo the truth about Sirius Black so far, but Blaise was his friend. And he really didn't need any more people mistrusting him for dodging answers.

"I'm going to stay with my godfather."

Blaise gaped at him. "Um, isn't your godfather Sirius Black? Mass murderer and prison escapee extraordinaire?"

"Slight misunderstanding between him and the Ministry. Never killed anybody, but it's hard to prove when the actual killer is thought to be dead."

"What the hell?"

"Yeah, he's been framed. Peter Pettigrew was the real killer."

And so Harry told Blaise about Black and Pettigrew, how he'd found out about all of it at the end of third year and had spent the last summer at Black's house.

Sometime during his tale, Blaise sat down on Harry's bed. His expression was wavering between disbelief, outrage and fury.

"Merlin's saggy balls," he breathed when Harry was finished. "So you would have grown up with Sirius Black if Pettigrew hadn't framed him?"

"Yeah." Peter Pettigrew had taken not only one but two chances of a happy childhood from him. A heavy knot of anger unfurled in his gut and crawled up his throat, leaving an acidic taste on his tongue.

"And Black never got a trial."

"Yes, they thought he was a Death Eater, so they didn't bother."

"Sometimes the Ministry's really unbelievable." Blaise paused, then added a tad too casually, "No wonder the Dark Lord had so many followers in the first war."

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"No wonder?" he prodded.

"Yeah, I mean he was kind of a revolutionary when he first appeared on the scene, wasn't he? I think anti-ministerial was the word my mother used. Anyway, I'll let you return to your packing, the train leaves in an hour."

Harry watched the door fall shut, a small smile on his lips. Sometimes he just loved Slytherin. Here it wasn't about grand gestures or teary hugs, but simple acts like this.

_"Accio trainers." _

…

With their trunks floating behind them, Harry, Theo and Blaise ran down Hogsmeade station.

"Next time," Theo panted as they hurried onto the train, "start packing earlier."

"I will. I will," Harry promised, quite out of breath himself.

Blaise led the way, marching them through several carriages before he finally stopped to open one of the compartment doors. "Daphne, Tracey, you have room for a few charming fellows, don't you?"

Daphne raised an eyebrow at them. "Sure. Theo and Harry are always welcome."

"She has a thing for me, I just know it," Blaise whispered in Harry's ear before he walked inside and took the free seat next to Daphne.

Harry followed after him, but not without rolling his eyes.

...

"Potter!"

Harry looked around the crowded King's Cross station for the source of the unfamiliar voice. It wasn't Sirius', who for obvious reasons couldn't come to pick him up, but the voice didn't belong to any of the Weasleys either. Maybe they weren't at Grimmauld Place after all. One could certainly hope.

"Over here!"

He followed the sound, and soon caught sight of a small wizard in dirty, worn out robes. Mundungus Fletcher. He'd seen him at Number 12 a few times last summer. He seemed to be one of the Order's more unsavoury members.

"Mr Fletcher," said Harry, putting his suitcase down besides the elder wizard.

"Just call me Dung. All the kids do," the man replied, and held up a delicate looking teacup. "Portkey," he explained. He lowered his voice. "With that bitch Umbridge snooping around Dumbledore doesn't want to risk us being followed. It'll activate in a minute. Hold on tight."

Harry eyed the cup mistrustfully. He had never used a Portkey before, and that thing, with its pink floral pattern, looked suspiciously innocent. That it reminded him of Umbridge's office didn't much help.

Hesitantly, he grabbed the cup with three fingers - there simply wasn't room for more - and a moment later felt a jerking sensation behind his navel. Fletcher's instruction to hold on tight seemed ridiculous in retrospect. His fingers were practically glued to the cup; it wasn't as if he had an option.

The station vanished and he was pulled forward through a swirl of colours. Wind was rustling in his ears, disorienting him. Then suddenly, it stopped. Harry fell down hard.

Fletcher landed on his feet, and laughed when he saw Harry sprawled out on the floor. With as much dignity as possible, Harry picked himself up. They were in one of the drawing rooms, thankfully alone.

"I have to get going," Fletcher said. "But the others are in the kitchen. I think Molly should be serving dinner soon."

Harry grimaced - so much for a Weasley-free holiday.

…

When he walked into the kitchen, Harry immediately noticed a change in atmosphere.

The Weasley children were huddled together in a corner of the room, talking quietly, while Mrs Weasley was preparing tea, adding a generous amount of – Harry took a step closer to make sure he'd read the label correctly– but yes, she was adding two spoonfuls of _salt_ to each cup.

"Um… hello," he said cautiously, not really sure how to handle this situation. Only Mrs Weasley looked up, smiling tiredly.

"Hello, dear. Do you want a cup of tea?" she asked, already floating one in his direction without waiting for an answer.

Harry tried to ignore the cup, but when it smacked against his hand for the third time, hot tea spilling onto his skin with each bump, he decided he was better off accepting it.

Not daring to take a sip, Harry stood in the kitchen forlornly, wondering where the hell Sirius was.

Thankfully, the man in question soon walked through the door.

His face was more lined than Harry remembered, and his stubbly beard gave him rugged appearance. When he caught sight of Harry, he smiled; it took years off his face.

He embraced Harry warmly, and to his surprise Harry didn't mind the gesture as much as he used to.

"Good to see you," Sirius said when they parted. "Let's go outside for a moment, alright?"

Harry was glad to flee from the gloomy mood in the kitchen and followed his godfather into the sparsely lit hallway.

Sirius' smile dropped. "Mr Weasley was attacked a few days ago. He'll make it, but it was a close call and he's still in the hospital. Molly, understandably, is in a complete tizzy, and the children aren't doing much better. They'll stay here for the remainder of the holiday. Grimmauld Place is much closer to St. Mungo's than the Burrow…" he trailed off, and when he resumed speaking he sounded reluctant. "I know you and Ron don't see eye to eye, but cut him some slack over the next few days."

Harry nodded, thoughts spinning. If there hadn't been a fight, then why had Mr Weasley been attacked? He was a low-level Ministry employee, a nobody. There was no reason for him to be targeted.

"Why was he attacked?"

Sirius looked down uncomfortably. "Sorry Harry, I can't tell you. That's Order business, and you're neither a member nor an adult…"

So he'd have to find out himself. "I understand. So, how have you been?"

"Bored, mostly. Went for a walk as Padfoot a few times, and once this really crazy bulldog tried to jump me." He shuddered. "Tell me about your time, it must have been more exciting."

And so Harry went on to recount his last few months. As it turned out, Sirius already knew about the DA, and so Harry concentrated on stories about the time he had shared with the Gryffindors.

…

As Harry had forgone dinner the night before to avoid the uncomfortable atmosphere in the kitchen, he woke up early the next morning to the sound of his loudly rumbling stomach.

He had once again been given Regulus' old room, and didn't particularly fancy leaving the comfortable warmth of his bed, but the memory of Mrs Weasley's delicious breakfast lured him downstairs.

Surprisingly enough, Sirius sat alone at the table.

"Morning," his godfather said, looking up from the newspaper he was reading. "What do you want for breakfast? I think we still have bacon and eggs… and toast, of course."

"I'll get it," said Harry when Sirius prepared to stand.

"Where are Weasley, anyway?" Harry asked, while breaking several eggs into the pan. The smell of it filled the room, making his mouth water.

"They left for St. Mungo's early this morning. Arthur's finally well enough to receive visitors."

"Oh, well, that's great."

Was it exceptionally selfish of him, Harry thought, while carrying his rather poor looking bacon and eggs to the table, to wish that Arthur's good news had waited long enough for Mrs Weasley to prepare breakfast?

On the other hand… remembering yesterday's tea, it was probably for the better.

Harry sat down opposite Sirius, digging in hungrily, listening to Sirius' story about a hydrophobic, tap-dancing cauldron that Dung had been trying to sell him.

"What do you think about preparing the house for Christmas?" Sirius asked once Harry had cleaned his plate down to the last crumb.

"Christmas?" Harry asked, thrown for a moment. "I thought we'd celebrate the Winter Solstice."

"Forget about that hogwash, Christmas is much more fun." Sirius was smiling brightly. "We could charm the Christmas tree bells to sing carols, and dress Kreacher like one of Santa's elves. He'd hate it."

"But shouldn't we maintain our own traditions?"

Sirius face clouded, and Harry felt a twinge of guilt for having crushed his godfather's uncharacteristically high spirits.

"Is that what your Slytherin friends told you?" He sounded weary. "They just repeat what their parents forced into their heads. They want to live in the past, but modernisation, progress… that's what we need."

"I wouldn't call it progress to throw away all the knowledge our ancestors left us."

"Just because some traditions contain knowledge doesn't mean they're right," said Sirius earnestly. "There were people, like my great-cousin Araminta for example, who used these exact traditions you want us to maintain to justify the legalisation of muggle hunting."

"And Christians justified the witch burnings with their religion, how is that any different?"

"The difference," Sirius said, "is that while we can be dangerous to them, there were hardly any magical victims during the witch hunts. They only succeeded in killing each other."

So," Harry said slowly, "you're basically saying that because they are inferior to us, we shouldn't take them seriously?"

"Merlin," moaned Sirius. "Of course I don't think they are inferior-"

Harry snorted.

"What?" Sirius asked, a catch in his voice.

"Well, they are."

"Who tol- why would you think that?"

"Well, obviously they don't have magic. But besides that… Have you actually met any muggles?"

"Sure, I've been to muggle London loads of times. "

"So you talked to them, lived amongst them, got to know them for some time? Or-" a thought crossed Harry's mind, and given Sirius' reputation as a student, this wasn't too unlikely "-did you just play pranks on them? Safe in the knowledge that they are too ignorant to catch on?"

A guilty look crossed his godfather's face, but then he raised his chin stubbornly. "I knew your mother very well. She was one of the brightest, kindest and most talented witches I've met – and a muggleborn."

"Yeah, and her sister, the muggle, is a narrow-minded, magic hating moron."

"I'll give you that. But you can't judge all muggles by your aunt."

"I don't. Unlike you, I grew up in the muggle world, lived there for ten years and return every summer since. I know plenty of muggles, believe me."

"But then you should know that there are good ones and bad ones, just like there are good and bad wizards. Yes, they don't have magic, but they are still human, and worth of our consideration and protection."

Harry balled his hands to fists. He hated the hypocrisy of it all. Neither Sirius, nor any of the Weasleys, and surely not Dumbledore either, had actually lived amongst muggles. Yet they were standing on their pedestals, claiming moral superiority, while in reality they weren't any better than other witches or wizards. One just had to take a look at Mr Weasley, who regarded muggles like some kind of circus attraction.

"Harry?" Sirius pressed on.

"Yes, yes, you're right, of course."

Sirius didn't look like he quite believed him, and rightfully so.

"So, um, no Winter Solstice, I take it?" Harry said, switching back to the less explosive topic.

Sirius exhaled audibly. "Yeah. I'm sorry it's not what you expected, but living in this house- I just- Celebrating the Winter Solstice would take me back to my childhood, while Christmas… Christmas is about family. About giving back to each other, and with everything that happened, over the last year and now with Arthur, I think that's exactly what we need."

Harry nodded, carefully keeping his disappointment off his face. He'd never liked Christmas, all of his memories about that celebration either were about being ignored by the Dursleys or sitting alone in front of a huge Christmas tree in the Slytherin common room. He'd really been looking forward to seeing how wizards traditionally celebrate the turning of the sun.

…

Christmas went by without much fanfare. Mr Weasley was better, but still confined at the hospital, and so after exchanging gifts, and a delicious Christmas lunch the Weasley family left Grimmauld Place to visit Arthur.

Sirius and Harry were still seated at the kitchen table, the latter feeling painfully full. He had somewhat overeaten, but damn… while there was a lot one could say against the Weasleys, Molly's cooking skills were impeccable.

"We could visit Godric's Hollow," Sirius said out of the blue. "Everybody's with their families today, celebrating, so there's less of a chance I'll be noticed."

"Really?" Harry hadn't thought Sirius would remember. He'd asked him about going there at the end of the summer holidays, eager to see if the Potters had left behind any journals, like Sirius' ancestors had, but his godfather hadn't been too fond of the idea back then.

Harry jumped from his seat, ignoring the angry rumbling in his stomach. "I'll go grab my coat, you'll go as Padfoot, right?"

Sirius eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "I don't think I've ever seen you this… _exuberant_," he finished, after searching for the right word for a moment.

Harry stuck out his tongue, and turned to run up the stairs, grab his coat, and, on second thought, his school bag too.

Of course he was in a better mood than usual, he would get to see his parents' house for the first time. How they had lived, and what they had left him.

But what if everything was destroyed? What if nothing was left?

At that thought, Harry nearly missed a step on the way down.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of these negative thoughts. He'd see the reality soon enough. No use worrying about it now.

Sirius – in the form of a big, black dog - was waiting for him next to the door, tail wagging.

"Good boy," Harry said, patting him on the head. Sirius growled.

It was only afternoon, but the sky was so dark and cloudy that the street lamps had been turned on early. A harsh wind blew through the streets, and Harry pulled his coat tighter around himself to keep out the cold.

Sirius didn't seem bothered as skipped down the street, leaving prints on the fresh snow.

White Christmas. Petunia was surely delighted.

Once they were a reasonable distance away, Harry grabbed his wand and held his hand skywards.

Out of thin air the triple-decker-bus arrived with a _pang. _Harry jumped back, nearly tripping over his own feet. He'd never get used to this. Sirius was running around him in circles, barking loudly, the sound suspiciously similar to laughter.

"I'm Stan Shunpike, your conductor. Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded- Oh, I know yer and that dog. Don' I?" A familiar pickle faced man gestured them to come on board.

"Yeah, we've taken the bus before. How much to Godric's Hollow?"

"Fifteen sickles. For sev'nteen you get 'ot chocolate. The dog's free, unless it wants some 'hot chocolate? That'd be 'free sickles then."

"Nah, we're fine-"

Sirius yowled.

"We just had lunch, how are you not sick at the thought of hot chocolate?"

Sirius, it seemed, tried for his best puppy dog face.

"Fine." Harry turned to Stan, who was eying them curiously. "One hot chocolate for him."

"Wiv whipped cream?"

"Regular will do-"

Sirius whined. Harry narrowed his eyes at him. The prat was doing this on purpose.

"Almost like 'e can understand us, ain't it?" said Stan.

"Yeah, almost." Harry sighed. "One hot chocolate with whipped cream for the dog," he said defeated.

"Awright. Take 'er away, Ern!"

With another _pang_ the bus took off.

…

Godric's Hollow was a picturesque village, especially in winter. Harry felt like he'd stepped right into a postcard as he followed Sirius down a narrow road, snow-capped little cottages to each side.

They crossed the village square, and just after passing by the church and the little graveyard he knew from their last visit, they entered a street to their left.

Harry walked slowly, listening to the snow crunch under his boots. It felt right somehow that his presence disturbed the almost sanctimonious silence of the street, that his steps left a trace in the blanket of white.

Sirius stopped in front of an overgrown hedge. It was higher than Harry was tall, and shielded the property behind it completely from view; even the gate was covered in ivy.

Harry's hand was shaking as he wrapped it around the doorknob.

This was where he had spent the first year of his life. Where is parents had lived and ultimately died. He stared at the iron wrought gate – what little of it was visible - trying to find something familiar in its intrinsic design, but… nothing. It could just as well have been any other gate in any other street.

He swallowed hard against the disappointment swelling in his chest. He was being stupid. It was only logical that he didn't remember.

About to turn the knob, Harry let go in surprise as the gate fell open at the slightest touch, slowly revealing the cottage on the other side.

Stepping over the threshold, Harry felt anger burning up his throat, choking him.

It was a mess.

Tree trunks were sprayed with graffiti, and although the fresh snow had started covering it up, broken bottles, empty food containers, used tissues and other waste was still clearly visible. It looked like the garden was regularly used for parties.

Harry could imagine them vividly. Stupid muggles, like Dudley and his friends, coming here to blow off steam, showing no respect for other people's property or for the sad history of this place.

Next to him, Sirius transformed back. "The muggle repellent charm must have lost its touch. Don't worry, it was always stronger closer to the house."

Harry didn't reply, his eyes still roaming over the state of his parents' garden.

"Come on. Let's take a look inside." Sirius put a hand on the small of his back, pushing him towards the house.

They stopped in front of a wooden door, a large lion head doorknocker at its centre.

Harry turned the doorknob. The door remained shut. He tried again. And again.

Finally he turned to Sirius. "Can you unlock it?"

"Try knocking."

"But, um…" _there's nobody there. _

"Trust me, just try."

Tentatively Harry raised his hand. The moment his fingers closed around the bronze ring, the little lion came to life.

It shook its mane and yawned, as if it had been woken after a long slumber; then it wrinkled its muzzle, and, baring its fangs, bent down to sniff at Harry's fingers. Its nose was surprisingly soft and warm to the touch, the sensation _familiar. _

The lion leaned back, grunting content, and with a soft _klick _the door swung open.

"He recognised me," said Harry, his voice full of wonder.

"I thought he might," Sirius said softly. "James did the charms."

They walked in slowly, but didn't get all that far. A huge… _thing_ of wood and stone bared their way.

"That's- that's the stairs," said Sirius disbelievingly.

Harry followed his gaze and looked up. Where one would expect a ceiling, there was only a huge gap, as if a giant had punched through it. He squinted. In the dim light it was hard to make out, but Harry thought he could see a hallway, with doors to each side, leading away from the hole on the first floor.

"Can you, I don't know, levitate it? Or vanish?" He looked at the construct doubtfully. It was enormous.

"Afraid not." Sirius shook his head. "If I use a spell your Trace will pick up on it. Best case they send you a warning for underage use of magic, worst case they come to investigate and find me here."

Harry could hardly argue with that.

"Let's go around the house. There's a terrace in the back. It's there that they… that _it_ happened."

Swallowing heavily, Harry followed Sirius outside and down a narrow path on the left side of the house. The hedge had grown so wildly that it had become almost impassable.

A branch whipped Harry's face, and he tasted blood on his lips; another one narrowly missed his eye.

"Watch ou-" Sirius said just before a pile of snow slid off the hedge, raining down on them in a cloud of icy crystals. Harry cursed as a handful of it went straight down his collar.

His godfather laughed, shaking his head in a fashion eerily similar to a dog's to get rid of the snow stuck in his hair.

As they turned around the corner, the smile melted off Sirius' face, a mask of pain taking its place.

Parts of the house were simply blown away. Chunks of the wall, a broken window, a door… it all was strewn across the terrace, rank with dark green weeds and partly covered in snow.

At least the Muggle Repelling Charm was still strong here; no empty bottles or any other sign of disturbance was visible.

"I never saw… I never thought… When I ran after Peter all of this was still standing, they were fighting, still alive. We were sitting right here-" Sirius pointed to the what must have been the centre of the terrace "-when they attacked - your parents, a few friends, Order members and I.

"Lily put these fairly lights that change colour up in the trees, and James opened an expensive bottle of Firewhiskey – not that any of us could tell the difference. It just seemed appropriate, we were celebrating our victory, after all." His voice broke.

Harry looked down, not knowing how to handle the tears threatening to escape his godfather's eyes.

Sirius breathing evened out. "Let's go inside."

They climbed over the rabble, carefully stepping around the broken window and other potentially dangerous pieces. There were several big holes in the wall – more holes than wall actually – and they walked through the biggest, which seemed to lead to the-

"The living room," said Sirius, confirming Harry's hunch.

Nature had claimed big parts of the room. Dark green ivy leaves covered chunks of the still standing walls, had even grown up the curtains, and around the rail. A blue couch, placed in the centre of the room, was overgrown with moss, and the wooden shelf at the back end of the room looked half rotten, the books inside covered in mould.

What grabbed Harry's attention the most though, were the picture frames next to it. A few still hung on the wall, others had fallen down, their frames shattered.

He slipped two of them into his bag, one of his parents dancing in the backyard, the other of the three of them together, seated on the blue couch.

And if the stepped on the one with Pettigrew in it, it was purely accidental.

"Show me around?" Harry asked, determinedly ignoring the pity in the other man's eyes.

As it turned out, there wasn't much to see. Only the kitchen and study were reachable from the living room, the rest of the house was inaccessible due to the fallen staircase.

The former wasn't really that interesting. The kitchen looked just like any other might, and though Harry knew he should feel something, because well, that was were his mother and father had surely spent lots of their time, had come to breakfast every morning and shared their days over dinner, the feeling just wasn't there.

In a way it was a repeat of their visit at the graveyard. While Harry mourned the life they could have had, only Sirius knew enough to mourn the lives that had ended here.

"The study's back here." Sirius opened the door situated next to the bookshelf. "If James owned any Potter journals, that's where they are."

It was a nice room. A desk of dark wood right in front of a big window that oversaw the garden, various bookshelves and cupboards left and right. It was like a (way smaller) version of the Black library.

"The old school books," Sirius said fondly, running his hand over a row of familiar looking tomes. "Lily insisted on saving them all."

They searched the room for well over half an hour, and while the Potters owned a few interesting books they just weren't what he was looking for.

Frustrated he opened the desk drawer. It held a collection of random knick-knacks - pencils, quills, empty inkwells, rolls of parchment… definitely no journals.

Hidden beneath all the rubbish though, was a small wooden box that captured Harry's attention. The lid was smooth and cold, like marble, and coloured in a wide range of red shades swirling and flowing into each other. Even though it looked rather fragile and old – ancient, really -, it wouldn't open, no matter how hard Harry tried.

"Let me take a look." Sirius turned the box around in his hands, humming quietly as he inspected each side closely. Harry looked up startled when he gave out a bellowing laugh.

"What?"

Sirius shook his head. "And I always thought the Blacks were the most paranoid bastards around… You have to put a drop of your blood on the lid to unlock it."

"Seriously?" Harry gaped at the innocent looking box. The various shades of red appeared to him in a different light now.

"Yes. Locks like that were pretty popular a few centuries back. Not many of them around anymore though. At least not were the public can see."

"All right." Harry took a quill out of the drawer and winced as he pricked his left index finger with its tip. He took the box and hesitated for only a moment before he smeared his blood across the lid.

At first Harry thought that nothing was happening, but then he realised that the box was vibrating, only gently in the beginning, but soon with increasing strength. His blood glowed brightly for a moment, before it was integrated seamlessly into the existing pattern. The box stilled, and a series of locks clicked and unlocked.

Inside were three keys. One big and rusty, one tiny and gold, and the third silver and rather new looking.

"Try the gold one over there," said Sirius, pointing at the cupboard to their right, to the only locked door in the room.

It fit.

There, standing in an orderly row, were several journals. A box of jewellery was in there too, but Harry pushed it to the side, discarding it as unimportant.

"I can take them with me, right?" he said, slightly in awe. He had certainly hoped to find something like this, but not quite dared believing.

"They are all yours."

…

Upon their return to Grimmauld Place, Sirius retired to his room, a pensive and kind of sad look on his face.

Harry didn't mind. He had a bag full of journals to read.

The house was dark, and Harry had thought nobody but them was here, but when he ascended the stairs, a sliver of light coming through a cracked door down the hall caught his attention.

That room had been uninhabited the night before. Someone new must have arrived.

Curiosity winning over, Harry left his book bag at the stairs and crept down the dark hallway. As he got closer, distinctive voices became clear.

Granger. Weasley. A third voice, talking quietly. Logically it had to be Longbottom.

"Don't you remember my first year? The diary?" a fourth voice said. "I know what possession is like. I wasn't in control of my own body, I blacked out, couldn't remember where I'd been and what I'd done… You don't have these symptoms, so no possession."

Ginny Weasley's resolute, insistent tone stood in stark contrast to Longbottom's timid mumblings.

"I don't know… Who said it's the same for everybody?"

"Then how would you have gotten to London?" Granger said soothingly.

"I- I don't know. Maybe I Apparated-"

"Out of Hogwarts? Not possible, mate, not even for you," Weasley said, a teasing undertone in his voice.

It seemed the humour was lost on Longbottom. "I know that," he snapped.

Harry had never heard the boy so angry before.

"I know that," he repeated, calmer. "But then how did I know Mr Weasley was injured? I was there- It was me who attacked him, for Merlin's sake. I was the snake!"

Harry took a step back.

Longbottom had attacked Arthur Weasley? Or at least thought it possible he had? And possession?!

Had he gone completely around the bend?

"Did you hear that?" Granger's question startled him. He didn't think he'd made any noise, but…

"What?" Longbottom asked, sounding nervous.

"Not sure," Granger said. "Probably just Kreacher. I'll check."

Shit. As quietly as possible, Harry hurried down the corridor. He wouldn't make it to the end of it, not in time.

The door clicked.

At the last moment Harry turned right and hid himself in the shadows of the nearest doorframe. He held his breath, not daring to make even the slightest noise. What he had overheard… he was still confused by it, but certain that the conversation had not been intended for his ears.

"All clear." Granger's voice cut through the silence, far louder than before, then she closed the door. Firmly, this time. Harry tried listening in again, but even when he was standing right before the door, all he could make out were unintelligibly whispers.

Harry walked up to his room, his mind buzzing. He was tired, but there was no point even thinking about going to sleep.

…

Longbottom and Granger had only stayed for one day, and so for most of the holidays Sirius, Harry and the Weasleys were the sole inhabitants of Grimmauld Place.

Lupin dropped by from time to time, as did other Order members, but of course then Harry and the rest of the 'children' were sent upstairs.

Harry often spent these hours in the library, but sometimes he joined the Weasleys in their various – and when Fred and George were involved often quite funny – exploits.

The only downside was that Ginny seemed to have developed a crush on him. Yes, she was pretty and even fun to be around, but her brothers, Ron in particular, were overprotective and more trouble than she was worth.

Not that Harry returned her feelings, he was quite happy exchanging letters with Padma.

So even though not every part of the holidays had been enjoyable, they had gone by surprisingly quickly.

"We're leaving in five minutes!"

Mrs Weasley's amplified voice made Harry jump. It sounded like she was standing right beside him.

He had finished packing yesterday night. The only thing still missing was the Potter journal he was currently reading.

Where the hell had he put it?

Fed up, Harry made sure that his door was closed and grabbed his wand.

_"Accio journal." _

About a dozen of them flew at him, and with a swish of his wand he directed them to land on his bed, stacked neatly.

"Where is everybody? We're leaving! Now!" Mrs Weasley shouted.

Hurriedly Harry grabbed the journal he'd been looking for – it was, of course, at the bottom of the pile – and a dark green, linen-bound one that looked so different from the others that he was sure he hadn't read it yet.

For a moment he thought about taking the box with the keys with him too, but no… This wasn't Privet Drive. His possessions were safe here.

Suitcase in hand he rushed down the stairs, nearly colliding with Ginny.

"Sorry," he said, ignoring the way she blushed at his attention.

Sirius was waiting in the hallway, ready to envelope him in one last bone-crushing hug.

"Be good. Do your homework, study, and annoy Snape whenever the opportunity arises."

"Will do," Harry murmured in the crook of his godfather's neck. "And you don't go stir crazy. Just write me, and I'll come to take you out for a walk."

Sirius pushed him away, scowling as Harry grinned cheekily.

"Harry!" The Weasleys were standing by the door, ready to go.

"Coming!" He headed for the street, smiling. Hogwarts awaited him.

* * *

><p><em>I promise the next chapter won't take this long to publish. <em>

_Any thoughts? As always, I value your feedback highly. _

_And, a bit of self-promotion in the end, if you're interested in realistic portrayal (well, the attempt at one) of a sociopath/psychopath!Harry check out my other story "**Heartless Harry**"._


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